Just a Girl
by wierdbot
Summary: 2007 Movieverse AU. What would have happend if Samuel James Witwicky had been Samantha Jenna Witwicky? Simple: Chaos. WIP
1. 1  Hello Sweet Nightmare

**Story Title:** Just a Girl  
**Story Summary:** (2007 Movieverse) AU. What would have happened if Samuel James Witwicky had been Samantha Jenna Witwicky? Simple: Chaos.  
**Chapter:** Chapter One: Hello Sweet Nightmare  
**Word Count:** 1, 149**  
Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers: The Movie (Either of them) or Transformers: The Animated Series (Any of them). They belong to Hasbro and what have you. I just own an over-active imagination.  
**Rating:** (T) - (PG-13)  
**Warnings:** Bad humor, gender-bending, SPOILERS!  
**Author's Note:** Yeah, okay, I have no idea. So, this is the first story I have ever posted. Be as brutal as you please. I don't care. Beware: I am British.

* * *

**Chapter One: Hello Sweet Nightmare**

Sam stared at the beaten-looking yellow Camaro, her smile faltering. Her brown eyes swiveled towards her father who grinned encouragingly and then back to the car that sat innocently in front of her in the drive.

"Geeze, dad… you shouldn't have…" _'Really,'_ she thought, _'you really shouldn't have.' _

"Well," her father started, quite happy with himself, "Since it is your seventeenth birthday… and your mom and I haven't gotten you anything big since Mojo… We thought we'd spoil you."

_'Oh no, dad, you really shouldn't have,' _she thought sardonically, inwardly rolling her eyes at the words 'big' and 'Mojo' being used in the same sentence. "Dad… I… don't know what to say." It hurt to smile in the sucrose way she did.

"Yeah, I would have taken you but I wanted it to be a surprise," he grinned again and she felt as if she'd swallowed engine oil, "I thought that since you took that mechanics class you'd be able to fix it up nicely, just the way you want it."

'_I want it in a scrap yard, preferably compressed into a cube and under a load of other dejected, compressed cars where I don't have to see that God-awful paintjob.'_ She didn't think it would be possible to ever fix that paintjob or get all that rust off for that matter… She tried hard not to grimace.

"Yeah, it'll be great…" She started, "… but how am I going to fix it up exactly? We haven't got any paint or anything that could help with this…" And she sure as hell wasn't going to spend her hard earned and saved cash to fix this little dump up.

"Aw, well you just tell me what you need and I'll get it for you!" Her father uttered the best string of words he had ever uttered.

"Really?" She smiled genuinely this time. She could always save up the materials and use them on another car, provided she could ever get rid of this Chevrolet.

"Yeah, of course you can, I got the car real cheap so there's a couple hundred bucks left for you to use on it…" Her smile widened, _'A couple hundred… that sounds good…'_

"Well, I'll let you check it out and do what you need to do; if you want anything today you'll have to make a list of all the things you want real quick so we can go get them before all the shops close. Otherwise, you'll just have to wait until tomorrow," she deftly caught the keys as her father tossed them to her, slowly making his way to the door, "Your mom'll call you for dinner, and don't stay out too long if you have homework."

Giving a noncommittal mumble as she fingered the keys of her new car she glared at the old Chevy sitting in front of her.

In the bright afternoon sunshine, the Camaro seemed to wink at her, despite the bad paintjob.

* * *

Samantha J. Witwicky had been looking forward to getting a car for as long as she could remember. There was always something about shiny, sleek and streamlined bodies and going really, really fast that got to her. It was only natural for her to like fast cars; she'd always been a fast-paced girl. Her mother had countless home videos of her running around constantly as a child; never stopping, always moving and then bumping into something. She had even joined the track team, and would consider herself one of the best runners in California; she had countless medals to prove it, and enjoyed it immensely, but strangely it never beat the rush of going faster than was legal on the highway when she was allowed to take out her dad's car.

Running was a rush but it was tiring and she couldn't do it for hours on end, but when it came to driving? There was no need to stop until the roads stopped and the car ran out of gas. She had been looking forward to the day that she would finally be getting a car with unholy joy.

Until she'd seen the dumpy looking Chevrolet Camaro in the drive and her smiling father standing next to it.

All systems are go had turned from a tantalizing vision of tinted windows and a metallic paintjob to a nightmarish spectacle of rust and dirty, mismatched rims. And worst of all; that women's intuition her mother always talked about finally seemed to kick in. And she knew that she was doomed. It was like getting an invitation to her own funeral. Welcome to the last day of your semi-acceptable reputation. Mission Status: Abort, System Malfunction.

She'd approached, her rigid smile super-glued to her face, trying desperately to avoid her father's eyes lest she start projecting her thoughts which had quickly taken a nose-dive upon seeing the Camaro and realizing that it _wasn't_ her father's new toy. She discovered an entirely new meaning to social suicide (not that she wasn't doomed anyway, with her track record). She'd dreaded something like this happening, but not quite to this extent and as she kept on smiling as she listened to her father with half an ear she could not stop thinking the same pathetic sentence over and over again: _'Oh please God, why do you hate me so much?!'_

She'd never quite been tortured in such a way before and to make it worse that damned car seemed to be smiling at her. In the most asinine way. It didn't stop no matter how hard she glared at it.

She heaved a long suffering sigh as she ran a hand through her short, permanently messy hair, slowly easing off her back pack and tossing it gently onto the grass next to the drive, stopping for a moment; anticipating her father's voice demanding that she get off the grass. When no protest came she quickly unlocked the car and dismissively popped the hood up. Sighing as she examined the components she almost didn't notice the engine that could, quite possibly, be God's gift to automobiles. She stood unmoving as her eyes locked onto the engine of the beaten up Camaro.

Lowering the hood slightly, she gave the paintjob a scorching glare, trying to figure out exactly what she had seen before deciding that a second look would very easily verify or dismiss any suspicions she had. Slowly, ever so slowly, she lifted the hood up again and stared, transfixed again and suddenly the racing stripes made sense.

Closing the hood of the car very slowly she stepped back before smiling mischievously at the yellow car in a way that promised great and terrifying things (for the car at least).

"Oh, little Chevy, we'll make a car out of you yet."

Suddenly that annoying smile seemed to flee from the car and she almost indulged herself in a maniacal cackle.

* * *

**End of Chapter One: Hello Sweet Nightmare**

* * *

**Next Chapter: Chapter Two: Va Va Voom**

**Author's Note:**

Oh dear. Will I ever succeed in this? I don't know. How did I ever manage to turn Sam into a girl? Ah well… I currently have a good method…

I'm trying to make Shia LaBeouf as feminine as possible in my mind. It's worked a little. Which is why (and I'll warn you all now if you're that dense) Sam is going to be a tomboy. You know, like, if you show her some heels she'd be liable to run away screaming. It's very fun.

Also I should mention that my Sam is going to be just as awkward as Michael Bay's Sam. More awkward even.

And I'm still debating on whether or not I should turn Mikaela into Michael. Lolz.

Any feedback is welcome.

-bot

P.S. If you need a code or w/e: _Italics_ in _'Single Quotation Marks'_ mean thoughts. Regular speech is in "Double Quotation Marks". _Italics_ on their own are _expression_. Example: This is a _really_ bad example.


	2. 2 Va Va Voom

**Chapter:** Chapter Two: Va Va Voom  
**Word Count:** 1, 365  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers: The Movie (Either of them) or Transformers: The Animated Series (Any of them). They belong to Hasbro and what have you. I also don't own any franchises or songs or movie references you may notice. I just own an over-active imagination.  
**Rating:** (T) - (PG-13)  
**Warnings:** Bad humor, gender-bending, SPOILERS!  
**Author's Note:** Hum… Check the Author's Note at the bottom of the page. Oh, and a cookie for anyone who can guess the song.

* * *

**Chapter Two: Va Va Voom**

It had taken all weekend. A long weekend of hard labor; one in which she had completely neglected her school work (She thanked the fates that she had no work due on Monday). But the car was clean and rust free._ At last_.

Sam thought it would never end, she also had the sneaking suspicion that the car hadn't been given a good cleaning since the year it had been made. She had been meticulous in her cleaning, superfluously scrubbing every nut and bolt that didn't shine. And by the end of it she was pretty sure she had developed minor Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and maybe a small addiction to the smell of cleaning fluids. She decided the perfect way to kick that habit would be to re-paint the car.

She would be taking the car to the Auto Paint Shop as soon as school ended on Monday to get a new paintjob, a new one even if it mimicked the original. She'd picked out a darker yellow than the original, one that had a distinctive golden tint to it, and had decided to keep the racing stripes, they suited the car and anything that made the car look better, she wasn't going to get rid of. Her dad was, apparently, feeling very generous because he had contributed most of the money needed to get a decent paintjob (and that was a lot); she'd only needed to dip into her own savings for a couple hundred dollars; something that didn't even dent her savings (she had, after all, slaved away at that _fast food restaurant_ for years; she felt no remorse or loss in quitting _that_ particular job).

While the car looked better clean and undoubtedly it would look even better repainted, Sam figured that she'd have to spend some time on repairs. When she was snooping around under the hood she'd found several strange components that she'd never seen before, ones that she couldn't seem to disconnect; no matter how hard she tried. Those would need looking at, but they didn't seem to be serious as the car ran perfectly well. A more pressing matter was the radio. It seemed broken, but not. It played just fine- it was more of a matter of _what_ it played. It had to have a glitch in there somewhere because it had this odd habit of switching on at random intervals while she was cleaning the car and playing an old Haddaway song. No matter how hard she tried she'd been unsuccessful in trying to turn the radio off; once it started playing, it simply _wouldn't_ turn off. In the end she'd simply given up and gone back to cleaning, though with a lot more vigor due to her annoyance at having to hear that song so many times in a row. The volume had risen after that, to her chagrin.

There were other things that needed work as well, such as the rims and the leather interior, but those could be fixed later. Right now she was tired. Cleaning was hard work; it was why her room was such a mess.

"Alright, Chevy, let's get you in the garage. Wouldn't want you to get dirty right after I cleaned you now, would we?" She muttered with a half yawn as she started the engine, pausing a second to admire the sound before slowly accelerating forward and into the open garage.

* * *

It looked great. Very Vintage. Pretty damn awesome.

Having resisted the temptation to go to the Auto Paint Shop every day of the week to watch the Camaro's progress, watching the shiny car roll out of the shop's garage on Friday afternoon was something amazing. If Sam hadn't actually had to spend so much time with that car the previous weekend she would not be able to tell that this gleaming piece of _speed_ was once a detestable piece of scrap metal. It was a transformation for the record books; it looked like the old, dirt track racing cars she'd seen in Auto magazines, she figured that this is what it would have looked like in its prime.

Her fingers twitched as she took the keys from the young mechanic, never taking her eyes off the- _her_ car.

"You'll need to air the paint a little more so don't keep it in the garage." The mechanic- Craig? - said, trying to catch her attention.

"I know," But she was solely focused on her car, a satisfied smile on her face, "You did the rims?" The once mismatched and dull rims were now a shiny black, like the newly painted racing stripes, with bright yellow accents, "Nice…"

"Thanks, free of charge," He said and she vaguely heard him approach, "It seemed a shame to leave the job undone, and you're already paying a lot for the paintjob… I did some touching up on the leather too… I just thought…" He trailed off rather pathetically.

"Oh, that's sweet…" She commented, stroking a finger along a ridge on the car's hood, admiring the way the paint glowed in the sun.

"Thanks, I did some extra time to get it all done… The boss took it out of my paycheck…"

'_This is a really, really good paintjob,'_ she thought, turning her head this way and that to watch the way the sun glinted off the smooth paint.

"Really sweet…"

"Thanks," Was the mechanic guy speaking?

"What?" She turned to look at him properly for the first time, "Did you say something?"

The guy deflated. Completely. Was he saying something important?

"I-I was just saying that-that uh… I could give you the leftover paint if you wanted it." He finished rather quickly.

"Oh, that'd be good! Then I wouldn't have to come back here every time something happens to the paint! Thanks, I appreciate it." The mechanic deflated a little more.

"Sure, I'll just… get them for you… then you can leave… Your father came here earlier to check the car… He paid for the paintjob… and I'll just go get the paint now." He quickly turned and ducked into the Auto Shop.

She frowned slightly, looking from her car to the entrance to the shop. Was it something she said?

Shrugging she turned back to car, unlocking the door and slowly lowering herself onto the driver's seat, both hands on the wheel. It felt good. The leather had been touched up as well- Hadn't the mechanic guy said something about that? – the black and yellow leather was much more vibrant now; it looked good.

But apparently the radio was still malfunctioning as it suddenly started playing that damned Haddaway song again. She definitely needed to get it checked; she hadn't even started the car yet!

"We'll get that fixed later," She promised herself (and the car) as the song was quickly cut off.

"Excuse me, miss?" It was another shop worker, holding a digital camera in his hands, "We were wondering if you would consent to us putting pictures of the car on our website? As a sample."

"Yeah, alright," she got out of the car and took refuge from the Californian sun in the doorway of the Auto Shop, watching the man as he took pictures of her car from different angles.

"Here," Having been lazily admiring the way the Camaro's paint shimmered, Sam nearly jumped out of her skin when the mechanic –Craig? – came up behind her, holding several canisters of paint. "I'll put them in your car."

Raising a brow at his suddenly cold attitude she simply followed. Noticing that the other shop worker had finished taking pictures of her car, she opened the boot for him so that he could unload the canisters from his arms without dropping them.

"Well, it was nice doing business with you, miss." The man with the camera smiled, "You be sure to come back soon."

Nodding goodbye to the two workers Sam started her car and drove away towards the outskirts of Tranquillity where the roads were empty and winding.

It wouldn't be until two hours later, when she arrived back at her house, that she would notice that the canisters weren't leftovers at all but sealed and full.

* * *

**End of Chapter Two: Va Va Voom**

* * *

**Next Chapter: Chapter Three: Paranoia and Hysteria**

**Author's Note: (Sorry, this is long**)

Okay… so I'm still not sure if Mikaela is going to be Mikaela or Michael. And to those who asked if I was going to do it for the romantic aspect of it (I don't actually like SamxMikaela that much…) … Ehhh- No.

I would do it for the lulz. Seriously, Ron Witwicky catching some filthy guy in his precious Sammy's room? Why _wouldn't_ I want to do that? Seriously?

Extra stuff to answer questions:

**Timeline:**  
**When Sam gets Bee:** About 2-3 weeks _**before**_ Sam's Family Genealogy Report (beginning of the movie). Why does Bee find Sam earlier than the original? Because I say so and because he didn't track Sam via EBay; he actually looked for her and just so happened to find her earlier than expected. (According to the pre-movie comic he'd been tracking the Witwickys for years.)

**Reinforcements:**  
Why doesn't Bee contact Prime & co earlier? Because he's pretty much going to be locked up in a small garage until he's paint's settled. So when he gets out it will be in time with the movie's timeline.

******Romance:**  
Ha! You make me laugh. Seriously, you do. If there is going to be any romance it's going to be a lot later. Like sequel later. Yeah, and for all those who requested SamxBee… Well… I'll just leave you hanging for a while (A very, very, very long while). Did you know a little anxiety is good anxiety? No? Well, now you do.

**FINALLY:**

That was an excellent response. Thank you all so much! That is: flarey phoenix, Ox King, SomeReallyRandomPerson, TJ, Blackwing.Rose, EasterOfFlesh, Crimson Starlight, Elita One, flamingmarsh, Of-Light-and-Shadow, SevenStar, Acid, Narnian Sprite, CheshireMax, Niteskye, The Irish Mob, Rindesayu and insanechildfanfic. ILUALL.

andomgthisisdisgustinglylongkthxbye

-bot


	3. 3 Paranoia and Hysteria

**Chapter:** Chapter Three: Paranoia and Hysteria  
**Chapter Summary: **It's normal to feel a little paranoid, right? The car can't really be… It can.  
**Word Count: **4, 074  
**Disclaimer:**I do not own Transformers: The Movie (Either of them) or Transformers: The Animated Series (Any of them). They belong to Hasbro and what have you. I also don't own any franchises or songs or movie references you may notice. I just own an over-active imagination.  
**Rating: **(T) - (PG-13).  
**Warnings:** Disturbing content? (Light stalking) Bad Humor, Gender-bending. SPOILERS!  
**Author's Note: **_I always feel like, somebody's watching me! And I have no privacy! Wo-oah!_

* * *

**Chapter Three: Paranoia and Hysteria**

She had left her homework for the last minute. She knew she shouldn't have, but she was just so busy! Busy taking drives in her newly repainted car.

She couldn't help it. Now that the car looked like it was worth the money it had taken to fix it up it practically screamed 'Drive me!'. It was very compelling, and she could not refuse.

And so, it was on a breezy Wednesday afternoon that Sam found herself in the attic looking for a specific box among the dust covered junk that littered the highest storey of her home. She had found that Family Genealogy Reports were long winded and harassing, but she was glad she had something to do the report on.

Her great-great-grandfather.

Captain Archibald Witwicky; grand explorer of the Arctic Circle and later a resident of an unnamed Mental Asylum, the man from whom the age old family motto came from: No Sacrifice, No Victory. She didn't know much about him, only what her father had told her (and that wasn't much), so she'd had to resort to ploughing through a dusty attic to dreg up the tools needed to scrape by the report with a B at least. Her father would expect no less, the report was on family after all and family was very important to the Witwickys (Except that one uncle of hers that lived in Kentucky, but to mention him in the house was practically sacrilege).

She was related to some peculiar characters to say the least. She would have snorted at that thought but making such a sharp movement would probably disrupt the dust that surrounded her and send her into a sneezing fit. This resolution quickly lost its sentiments however when she lost her grip on a box she was pulling towards her; sending her falling backwards, knocking down a few smaller objects that stood behind her on the way down. She was now sitting in a cloud of dust.

Pulling the neck of her t-shirt over her mouth and nose she attempted to pull out of the asthmatic cloud when her eyes landed on one of the boxes she'd knocked over. Its lid had popped open, spilling its contents all over the floor; some of which looked like the sailing equipment she'd Googled in pursuit of her much needed B.

'_Talk about luck,' _she thought as she quickly gathered the awry (and ancient) equipment, hastily putting them back into the box, trying hard not to breath in any of the dust that lingered in the air.

Completing her task she quickly headed for the attic access, dodging any stray junk that had taken residence on the floor, and down into the clean air of the second floor.

Setting the box down at her feet she took a moment to filter clean air in through her lungs while brushing off any dust that had stuck to her person. While she was distracted with the chore of cleaning herself off her little pet, Mojo, limped over to her, sniffing at the precious box.

"Oh, Mojo, don't do that, you'll-" Too late, the small Chihuahua had already inhaled some of the dust that hovered around the old box and had started sneezing, "Stupid dog."

Muttering to herself about simple logic she bent down and picked up her cinnamon colored pet, tucking him under one elbow before bending to pick up her great-great-grandfather's belongings, tucking a toe under the box so that she could establish a secure grip on the cardboard before picking it up.

"Come on Mo, you need fresh air." With that she easily skipped down the stairs to the ground floor, out of the house and into the back yard.

Setting her project down on the grass she sat on the veranda in a lotus position, dropping Mojo softly beside her, not caring when the little dog jumped into her lap and quickly made himself comfortable, resting his little head against her thigh.

"Okay, let's see… Captain Archibald Witwicky… So crazy he got himself into The New York Journal." She paused, contemplating that, "Wow, must have been really crazy…" She laid the aged articles to one side and reached into the box again.

"Compass… Huh, it still works," she commented as she put the item on top of the brown newspapers, reaching for another object, "I have no idea what this is…" She muttered, frowning as she moved the oblong, leather quiver-like object out of her way before her fingers brushed something smooth and leathery.

Taking the small object out of the cardboard box she read the words embossed on top of it; Archibald Witwicky, undoing the fastening and popping the case open she lifted the item up out of its case, and held it up toward the sun, smiling at the way the light refracted around her.

"His glasses… Huh, must've had a Harry Potter thing going on back then…" She joked to herself lightly as she examined the shape of the frames, "They're cracked tho-" Stopping mid-sentence she cocked her head to one side,_  
_

_'What was that sound?'_ She found no amusement in the fact that Mojo had sat up as well and that he too had cocked his little head to one side, growling lightly in his throat.

"Shh, shh Mojo, let me listen!" She whispered, putting a calming hand on the Chihuahua's back.

There was silence for a while before she heard a faint hiss, it wasn't natural, but it was a familiar hiss. Narrowing her eyes as if it would help her discern the sound she leaned towards the noise as it sounded again.

… Hydraulics? That didn't make sense; she hadn't heard any sound that would suggest a car was being used nearby. There was no purr of an engine, no slamming of a car door, no faint smell of exhaust… only the very slight hiss of hydraulics.

Picking Mojo up off of her lap and transferring him to her elbow, still gripping her great-great-grandfather's glasses, Sam stood slowly, careful not to make too much noise so that she could still hear the hissing. Making her way around the house she slowed down in precaution as the sound grew louder.

She jumped slightly as Mojo suddenly barked and the sound of hydraulics reached its peak before disappearing completely. Frowning with alarm she hastily moved towards the front of the house, calmly twisting the eye glasses in her grip so that the lenses now lay atop her fingers as she lay her relatively free hand on Mojo's muzzle, quietening him again. Reaching the junction between the back yard and the drive Sam peeked cautiously around the corner.

Nothing; not a living soul. The only thing in front of her home was her car, sitting quietly and gleaming in the sun.

A gentle breeze caused goose-bumps to rise on her arms and she decided to play it safe and rushed back around the house, throwing her ancestor's belongings pell-mell into their box before heaving it up to her midsection and dashing into the house. Not pausing to look behind her once.

Shaking off her spooked feeling she deposited Mojo into his basket which rested in a corner of the living room where her mother was idly watching an old film from the 1950s. Adjusting her grip on her box and scratching Mojo behind the ears she ran up to her room, intent on getting her work done.

* * *

Sam sat at the kitchen table, numb. She had not slept the previous night, not after her little cycling escapade, and she had shallow rings under her eyes as proof of her deprivation. She was impossibly jittery, her mother commenting on it lightly when she nearly jumped a foot into the air when her father had slammed the bathroom door upstairs. She couldn't relax, her muscles tight and twitching at the slightest movement, the slightest noise. She knew her nervousness was going to carry on well into school hours until she finally had to concentrate and force herself to forget the happenings of the night before, if she ever could, that is.

Today was going to be _hell_.

The day before had started as normally as it was ever going to get; she'd woken up, given Mojo his food (and pain killers), washed up, gotten dressed and eaten a light breakfast before driving to school in her newly refurbished Camaro where she endured several hours of boring lessons, a Family Genealogy Report, jocks and Miles'… eccentricity before driving back home and finishing all her homework as her parents instructed, afterwards spending two hours totally annihilating Miles on a new interactive web game he'd found. Overall, it was a very normal day for Samantha Witwicky. It wasn't until the sun had gone down and she had only just slipped into a light sleep that _it_ had happened.

_It_ was quite simply, what she now dubbed, the Satan's Camaro.

She had no explanation for it, it had all happened so quickly. As she was still in the first stages of sleep she had heard the rumble of an engine. A very familiar engine. In a light panic she'd jumped up and run to look at the drive from the balcony to find her car driving away. Her car. The one she'd spent so many long days fixing up; cleaning and painting and waxing and buffing. Her car, the one with the racecar engine worth more than the rest of it put together.

She'd only had one option, really. Against her better judgement, or not, she'd run back to her room, immediately thrown on a pair of her many cargo Capri pants (right over her pajama shorts, no less) and dashed out of the house, toeing on a pair of flip-flops on the way as she grabbed her mother's pink bicycle and peddled her way after the distinctive yellow paintjob.

The chase had been short and fast and the only reason she hadn't lost the Camaro was because of its bright paint. Only when the car finally stopped just inside an old junkyard had she suddenly realised that maybe following her stolen car wasn't the best idea in the world. Quite belatedly, she dived behind some of the trash that littered the area around the junkyard, sneaking peeks at the stationary car, her limbs shaking in the cold of the Californian night.

She remembered her mouth falling open as she watched her car do what she could only describe as transform. Transform into a giant robot. For a second her mind registered, fleetingly, that for the past few weeks she had, inadvertently, been poking around and getting downright intimate with the internal organs of a giant robot. If she had been in any state to make any sound she would have whimpered at the thought, however any sound that had any chance of attempting to be made by her vocal cords was promptly strangled as the robot (Her robot? Her car?) started walking.

She didn't know why this shocked her so much, of course it could, would, walk; it had a humanoid shape and she was pretty sure it (he?) hadn't driven all the way to the junkyard to admire the view, but nevertheless, the fact that the robot was walking made it seem all the more unbelievable, all the more surreal, if that was even possible, she had been expecting some greasy old man to get out of the car; not for it to just stand up!

It felt like her eyes were popping out of their sockets when she saw what it did next; the yellow robot shone a light from it's chest (Could she call that a chest? Chest area?) up into the sky. Realising that she was now shaking violently at the sight (because of the cold?) she had clumsily boarded her mother's bike and rode shakily home, all the while muttering the most ridiculous words.

"E.T. Phone home…"

She'd had the sense to sneak back into the house, God only knew what her parent's would do to her if they found out she had been out of the house at such an hour, and as a precaution she had locked herself in her room (even though locked doors weren't allowed in Ronald Witwicky's house, which defeated the purpose of having locks on the doors anyway… (And she wasn't sure what good a locked door would do against a giant, obviously alien, robot anyway.) and done something she hadn't done in years. She'd hidden under her duvet. Like a baby.

In the morning, earlier than she was usually considered a member of the living, she'd poked her head out from beneath the hot air-pocket she'd made with her blankets with a much clearer, and rational, mind. She'd spent the night reassuring herself that she was just imagining things, that she probably had too much candy before going to bed (even though she knew she hadn't had any that night) and that she was listening to Miles a bit too much (which wasn't true since she only ever listened to him with less than half an ear when he started on something crazy) and that, inadvertently, it was time to ditch the video games. Maybe.

With bright, positive thoughts she'd stood and walked calmly out of her room and to the balcony to reassure herself that last night her car had not gone anywhere and that it was sitting in the driveway, right where she'd left it after she'd come home from school. Only it wasn't there. In fact, it wasn't there for the whole ten minutes she spent staring at the empty driveway, jaw disengaged. It had been just before she'd decided that her car really must have been stolen and decided that her dad must be informed that the cheerful yellow demon had rolled up and parked itself in the driveway. On its own, as in; without a driver.

She had immediately ducked down; it (he?) could, most probably, see her. Peeking over the ledge of the balcony she'd snuck a glance at the Chevy. It had flashed its headlights at her. She had smacked her chin painfully in her rush to duck down again. That thing could definitely see her.

Deciding that hiding right above the car was not a good idea, she'd crawled backwards into her room, quickly grabbing some clean clothes from the piles that lay about her room that would, hopefully, make a semi-decent outfit. She'd almost reached her bathroom, still crawling backwards for some unknown reason, when her alarm clock started chirping happily, causing her to jerk and fling all the clothes in her lap around her room.

She'd rushed to slap it into silence before she'd gathered new items of clothing and darted into her bathroom all the while asking why everything good in her life was somehow distorted into something she definitely _didn't want_. There had been many instances in her life where she wished she had decided to elaborate a little more, like when she said she wanted a dog; she'd meant something like a Doberman; something that was liable to tear an annoying jock's leg off if she wanted it to, not an ankle biting Chihuahua; or when she had asked Miles to go to the Mall with her… but she wasn't going to go into that; or like when she'd asked her parents for a car, she should have specified that she wanted a nice, relatively-new model sports car, not a beaten up Camaro that took itself on drives around town! She had actually liked it, who wouldn't like a vintage racecar (albeit one that did need repairs)? But now it turned out to be a freaking _giant alien robot_. She had, quite possibly, the worst luck.

She didn't know how she'd managed to get through her daily routine but somehow she'd managed to pack all her school things and get ready to face the day. Almost. Getting down the stairs and on the same level as the car had been agony; backing up and sprinting down the steps several times before she could solidly stand at the foot of the staircase. After she was well fed she'd simply sat at the table, her bag next to her and ready to go. Only she couldn't quite get herself to move.

"Sam, sweetie? Are you okay? You look a little pale." Her mother commented again as she came out of her zoned-out state, "You're going to be late to school you know, you should head on out."

Her mother's words were always compelling, no matter what she said. Sam thought it was the tone in her voice, or maybe it was the knowledge that in the seventeen years that Judy Witwicky had been her mother, she'd never been wrong. So it was this simple little comment that got her onto her feet and out of the house. And right in front of the Satan's Camaro.

She froze, as she'd known she would, and she became breathless, almost as if she was suffocating, as she knew she would, and she found herself, for the first time ever, wondering if her mother had been wrong. Staring unblinkingly at the car, for almost a minute, as she fingered the keys in her pocket she quickly ran through her options before making a decision.

Shuffling sideways she quickly manoeuvred herself so that she was no longer in front of the car and slowly backed down the drive until the grass under her sneakers was replaced by concrete. Turning so that the car was no longer in her sight she started walking at a snail slow pace and set out towards the direction of her school, all the while willing herself not to look behind her. Only when she'd reached the corner had she allowed herself to look back to her house and at that car. Only she found that, for the second time that day, it wasn't there. No, it wasn't in the drive. It was right behind her.

_Right behind her._

Uttering a quick shriek she spun on one heel and took off in a sprint towards her school.

* * *

By the time she arrived at the gates of Tranquillity High she was sure she'd set some kind of record but she didn't stop to check her watch or to catch her breath. Instead, she ran to the regular place she met up with Miles.

She was ruthless in her journey to the Girls' Locker Room, not apologising or looking back at anyone she pushed out of her way or accidentally knocked to the ground. Upon seeing Miles her speed spontaneously increased and she quickly wiped the smile off his face as she grabbed onto his shoulders and pushed him back into the girls' locker room.

"My-car's-an-alien-robot-and-it's-stalking-me!" The words just tumbled out, quick and incoherent.

"_What?_"

She should have thought to look around the locker room before she spoke; because that was not Miles' voice. It was decidedly female and familiar.

Mikaela Banes.

Sam stamped down the urge to scream in frustration. _'Of all the people- what is she even doing in here?'_

"What, what?" She answered quickly, and rather stupidly.

The other girl stared at her evenly for a few seconds with a raised eyebrow.

"Why did you bring him in here?" The girl, apparently, hadn't understood what she said as she gestured to Miles.

"What are you doing here? You do know where you are right?" Girls like Mikaela Banes had long abandoned the practice of entering the Girls' Locker Room.

"Your car's an-" Miles started in a whisper, obviously working out what she'd said while he was silent.

"Shut up, Miles," Sam quickly cut him off through grit teeth.

The other girl looked disturbed, obviously getting the wrong idea.

"Huh… Okay, whatever." Without another word the taller girl briskly moved around them and exited the locker room.

"Your car's a what?" Miles asked, half a minute of silence later, "And could you let go of my shoulders now? I think they're gonna bruise."

Letting go and muttering a quick apology she stared at Miles' uncertain face. She was suddenly filled with doubt, having second thoughts about telling Miles. She wasn't sure he'd even believe her! She knew that no matter how weird Miles was, he was smarter than anyone thought, smarter than even she was willing to give him credit for. And while he was a good friend, her oldest friend, her best friend, her story was just not believable; even now, if she hadn't known that she _wasn't_ delusional last night, she wouldn't have believed herself!

"I-" This was impossible, she needed to tell someone, tell him, but it wouldn't come out; the adrenaline was gone from her veins and all that remained was fear and doubt, "It's nothing…"

"No, it's not nothing; you said something about your car," Miles was frowning at her now- should she have told him anything at all?

"Y-yeah, my car… I just… I had the craziest dream last night about my car!" She finished lamely, forcing an unconvincing smile onto her face.

"Really? What happened?" This was the Miles everybody else saw, the one that would let other people do what they wanted and take interest in the strangest things, but she knew he was listening and she was glad for it.

So she told him all about her dream.

* * *

She crouched, sinking into a familiar position, waiting for the signal. Her muscles tensed in preparation, ready to jerk forward in a smooth and fast movement. It came and she flew off; feet scarcely touching the ground they pounded against as they moved in a rapid sequence.

Left, right, left, right, left, right.

It was a comforting pattern, one she knew well and could adapt to. One so facile it was like she was putting herself on auto-pilot, letting her legs move her as she drifted off into a place of inner sanctity.

She needed to think, so she ran.

She'd told Miles all about her 'dream' and he'd taken it all in stride, laughing and snorting in disbelief in all the right places. But he'd stayed with her during track practice; he wouldn't let her out of his sight. She knew he was worried. He had every reason to be.

She knew it was strange and unnerving for him. He'd only had to listen to her talking about how her great-great-grandfather had gone insane, spouting off nonsense about a giant iceman, just yesterday, and today she was spouting off nonsense about having a 'dream' about her car turning into a giant robot. She could only hope that he didn't tell anyone, especially not her parents.

Stopping a little way after the finish line of the 100 metre school track she breathed a deep sigh. She didn't need to worry about Miles too much, he was a firm believer in letting problems sort themselves out in their own time; he was patient like that. She just wished she was the same; she preferred to jump into situations and worry about everything else later, but she knew that she couldn't do that in this particular situation. She'd need to be subtle and unassuming and she needed to stay away from that car but there was nothing she could do short of completely ignoring it- which she knew was going to be impossible and altogether much too noticeable; she had been too excited about the car to suddenly lose interest overnight.

The only other solution would be a confrontation. While she wasn't completely abject to this idea, it had one small flaw.

The Camaro seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. Granted, she hadn't exactly searched for it but she figured a yellow paintjob would be pretty noticeable on the streets surrounding her high school. However, after being chased to school by it she hadn't seen it at all during the day; it wasn't lurking about in the street, teasing her in her peripheral vision, while she was in lesson and it wasn't in the parking lot during lunch break and it wasn't waiting for her in front of the school at the end of the day. It was like it had never existed in the first place.

She supposed it was a good thing that the Camaro was keeping out of sight; she didn't think she was ready to face it just yet.

* * *

**End of Chapter Three: Paranoia and Hysteria**

* * *

**Next Chapter: Chapter Four: Upside-Down**

**Author's Notes:**

(EDIT) I made a very minor change. I got my places mixed up. (EDITEND)

I was tempted to name this chapter 'Revenge of the Bee'. Also…

This chapter was the devil; the devil I say! I have edited this so much. I still don't like it… It's icky. I think I changed 1, 300 words (That's 4-freaking-pages). In the original draft Miles was supposed to find out about Sam's car being a giant alien robot, yanno really find out, but now he's not. Because when I was reading it, it sounded fan-girl-y and stupid. Sam was also supposed to get chased by Barricade, but that would have made it too long. c:

And people are mentioning that I have no Spelling or Grammar mistakes… Well, I'm studying English Literature. I'd just about have a stroke if I had bad Spelling or Grammar. **(EDIT2) And actually I did have LOTS of mistakes, but I've fixed them. (EDIT2END)**

Also, short chapters are short because they're supposed to be short. As you can see this chapter accounts for two days while the last one was a week and the one before only a few minutes. Pay attention to the passage of time and highlighting of events and such, blah, blah, blah…

Thank you to Crimson Starlight, flamingmarsh, Cman710, SomReallyRandomPerson, Fk306 animallover, Niteskye, theundefeatableMJ, CheshireMax, Garnet Princess (x2), Sagibanu, Elita One (ILUxInfinity), SevenStar, insanechildfanfic, Hikari Kaiya, TJ7, Of-Light-and-Shadow, Cereal-Rapist-Spencer, Acid (No, he wasn't… Where'd you get that?), Narnian Sprite and Gooey Puddle!

-bot

P.S. I actually love Dobermans.


	4. 4 UpsideDown

**Chapter: **Chapter Four: Upside-Down  
**Chapter Summary: **It's that feeling you get when your blood doesn't know which way to go.  
**Word Count: **2, 416  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers: The Movie (Either of them) or Transformers: The Animated Series (Any of them). They belong to Hasbro and what have you. I also don't own any franchises or songs or movie references you may notice. I just own an over-active imagination.  
**Rating:**(T) - (PG-13)  
**Warnings:** Bad Humor, Gender-bending. SPOILERS!  
**Author's Note:** Aaliyah – We Need a Resolution. **–hearts-** (_Italics_ in _"…-double quotation marks…"_ are song lyrics)

* * *

**Chapter Four: Upside-Down**

"… _-we need a resolution, we need a resolution, we have so much confusion. I__ wanna__ know; where were you last night...?"_

"… -where they were going, we have yet to find out…"

The stereo and television crowed on, the news reporter's formal tone slowly overridden by the smooth beats and the delicate voice streaming in through the speakers sitting on a cluttered desk. Sam had stopped paying attention to both, happy to only register the music and news as pleasurable background noise as she tended to her nails; painting them a radical, glittery plum purple.

"…_-I__ wanna__ know; where'd you go instead…?"_

Screwing the cap back onto the little bottle of nail paint she swayed her hands in time to the beat of the music. She wasn't one to be obsessive over her appearance, though she preferred to look presentable, her nails however were an exception; a little infatuation of hers. She liked painting them new colours and keeping them manicured and healthy; it gave her something to muse endlessly over in boring lessons, it truly was unbelievable how long someone could stare at their nails trying to figure out how many shades of a color they became in different types of light.

Giving her hands one last shake before peering at her nails critically she stood and tightened the strap holding her bath robe together, assured that her nail paint was thoroughly dry. Quickly switching both her TV and stereo off she made her way out of her room and down to the kitchen; she needed to get a move on, even her parents were out at this time of day. Reaching the kitchen she ducked a hand into the fridge for one of her many bottles of water.

She'd been neglecting her training regime lately and she found it crucial that she make up for lost time if she was going to compete against other states again this year. She was already behind schedule; usually, if she was keeping up with her timetable, she would have already finished her aerobic exercises, her stretches and gone on her morning run around Tranquillity by 12 p.m. on a Saturday, but here she was; barely out of the shower and her mind still foggy from sleep and steam.

'_I'm going to lose my touch,'_ she thought as she emptied half her bottle of water, staring aimlessly out of the window above the kitchen sink, _'If I'm not careful those girls from Santa Clara'll get all the medals this year… Though the girls fro-'_

Her thoughts were cut off by the ringing of her cell phone; dragging herself away from the window, water bottle still in hand, she went in search of her phone, intent on stopping her rather annoying ring-tone. Spotting her school bag in the living room she quickly started digging through it for the elusive phone, once she found it she flipped it open quickly and held it to her ear; instantly she was greeted with the dial tone.

"The hell?" She remarked pulling the device away from her head to look at the small screen, frowning she tapped a few keys and put the phone back to her ear.

However the smooth, dull female voice announcing that the number of the caller was withheld fell upon deaf ears; Sam was too busy staring out of the living room window, staring in mild horror at the car that was sitting on her father's precious grass.

No, not sitting; it was moving closer.

Dropping both her open water bottle and her cell phone Sam dashed up to her room.

How could she have forgotten? Was she so stupid to think that just because the car had disappeared for a night it would be gone for good? She had put the whole 'my car is an alien robot' thing out of her mind when she'd told her parents a ridiculous lie about how someone had keyed the hood and that she'd taken it to the Auto Shop to be repaired over the weekend, it was only slightly ludicrous, but her dad would believe anything she told him. It was a stupid mistake, but somewhere in her mind she had thought that when the car did reappear she would be brave enough to be able to confront it; she'd just never imagined it would come back so soon. Too soon for her to confront it. She wasn't ready, not at all. She needed to get away from it.

Cursing her naivety she all but ripped off her bath robe as she rushed to get some clothes on; blindly throwing on the first thing her hands touched. Barely pausing as she pulled on her left sock (not even registering that it was a different colour to the right), she half hopped to her door, still fiddling with the neck of her left sock, as she grabbed a pair of her many running shoes on her way past her open wardrobe. Hoping she would not slip and fall she jumped her way down the stairs, trying to tug her shoes on in quick, spastic motions.

Stumbling onto the landing she pushed herself back to the living room, not stopping her jog as she grabbed her cell phone off the floor and streaked to the front door, haphazardly throwing it closed behind her as she took off at top speed towards the town centre. Sparing a crucial moment she turned her head back for a second to see the car reverse off her dad's grass and then follow after her.

She sped up.

* * *

It was supposed to be a quiet, relaxed day out with the 'girls' not an intervention on her latest fight with Trent and "Why exactly was she breaking up with the hottest guy in school?" She'd just wanted to get out of the house, eat a small lunch with her so called friends (who had not ceased their interrogation even once since she'd arrived not thirty minutes ago) and then maybe go to the mall, or if that wasn't possible then a ride on her Vespa. It was a very simple and relaxed plan. Only she seemed to be doomed to have nosy friends with no love lives of their own for the rest of her life.

'_You'd think they'd get bored after six or seven failed relationships…'_ she thought bitterly.

The girls didn't even notice her sour expression, they simply chattered on about all the finer points of her relationship with the quarterback.

"You do realise what you'd be giving up right?" One of her friends, the blonde- Stacy? - , asked, her question was obviously rhetorical as she didn't wait for an answer, "Trent is like-"

She would not endure this lecture.

"Oh, shoot! I almost forgot! I have to go back home, Grandma wanted me to help her with some gardening! I, so, have to go!" It was too easy to fake her surprised and disappointed tone and even easier to pull that lie out of thin air.

Automatically hugging and pecking her friends on the cheek as they systematically expressed their 'aw's of displeasure she stepped away from the ledge they were sitting on and was then promptly knocked down.

It took a few seconds to clear her head of her sudden daze but she managed to sit up quickly (God only knew what had been on the pavement) and take a good look at the person who had, probably, just caused a huge bruise to form on her backside. It was that girl – she had a boy's name, she couldn't remember which - she had seen in the Girls' Locker Rooms with that weird boy.

The girl seemed to be in a rush as she paid no heed to her friends' jeers but instead simply threw a glance over her shoulder as she stood again, before running off in her original direction, not even brushing herself off as she all but shouted a thoughtless apology back at Mikaela.

Frowning she accepted her friend's – another blonde, Bridgette if she remembered correctly - hand, pulling herself up, and after hastily reassuring her friends that she was alright, she took off towards her Vespa.

That girl was running away from something and she was going to find out what.

* * *

She was getting tired; she could only sprint for so long. She needed to hide, get her breath back and run again.

Desperately looking around she spotted an unused car lot. She didn't hesitate as she zoomed past the traffic and under the shelter the concrete structure provided.

'_Possibly not my best idea, but I can barely breathe anymore…'_ She thought dismally as she searched for a suitable cover. Finally, after seconds, which felt like eons, she found sanctuary in an old beaten up and obviously abandoned car whose door was conveniently unlocked.

Releasing her concrete hard grip on her cell phone she rapidly flipped it open and dialled a well memorized number.

"Hello?" Miles' voice was like a much needed glass of water.

"Miles, hi, I'm sorry to call you out of the blue and ask for a favour but could you please, please, please do me a favour?" She needed to calm down; she had barely paused between her words.

"Yeah, what can I do for ya?" God, why was he so cheery?

"If my parents call you tonight asking for me could you please tell them to file a missing person report?" The words spewed out of her mouth, it hadn't sounded so ridiculous, or worrying, in her head.

"What? Sam, what are you talking about?" But she couldn't explain because at that moment she heard the rumble of an all too familiar engine.

Sinking down even further in her seat she answered in a whisper, "Look, Miles, I really have to go now, just remember what I said and tell my parents I love them and take Mojo for a walk every now and again, please?"

"Sam, why are you whispering? What's wrong? Sam-" Miles voice was awfully concerned and nervous, she cut the connection and turned her cell phone off before she had to hear anymore.

She clutched her cell phone to her chest for a second before slipping it into her pants' pocket. Taking a deep breath to steady her heart rate, a useless effort as she was sure her heart would never calm down again, she rose ever so slightly and peeked out of the driver's window. From behind the glass two, small blue lights greeted her.

She blinked and then drew back as the lights seemed to mimic her action. She suddenly froze and wished she hadn't drawn back, because now she could see what the twin lights were attached to. A head. A small, jagged looking head with a sort of muzzle that was eerily like that of the Predator.

It clicked at her.

She screamed at a pitch so high she was sure a window (or maybe an eardrum) cracked _somewhere_. Thinking incredibly quickly she held on to the door handle just hard enough for it to open before she delivered a hard double legged kick to the door, letting it go just in time to let the door swing open so violently that the silver creature was catapulted away from the car. Cutting off her scream she dived out of the automobile and ran in the opposite direction in which she had thrown the unfortunate robot. She made it a few meters before she spotted a police cruiser.

Thanking her lucky stars she sprinted to the driver's side, hollering, "Hey! Office-"

Unfortunately, she never got to finish her sentence because as she reached the driver's side the door opened; knocking the air clean out of her and levelling her onto the ground where the side of her face impacted painfully. She barely felt a twinge though; the adrenaline and a sudden surge of anger in her blood were very able painkillers.

"Hey! What is your _problem_?!" She was on her feet quicker than she was thinking as she delivered a hard kick to the cruiser's nearest tyre. This was, quite evidently, a very bad move as the car's door closed and the engine of the car roared as it was manoeuvred towards her.

"Oh-h! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" The policeman didn't seem to care as he accelerated forward again, forcing her to back away from the black and white car, "Look, I'm just having a very bad day, alright? If you would just hear me out-"

Apparently the officer was not in a listening mood as he drove forward again and again with a roar of an (admittedly very nice) engine every time she tried to explain, eventually backing her into a pillar.

"Would you just, please, listen? I'm sorry about kic-" She stopped as she heard a strange noise. What in the hell was that clicki-

'_Oh no,'_ she thought, recognizing the sound.

"Oh no, oh no- oh no- oh no!"

Pressing her back harder against the stone pillar she stared in terror at the police cruiser. It continued clicking and 'vrr'-ing and clicking until it _stood _in front of her in all its creepy, alien glory, peering at her with narrowed red eyes (lights?). It looked positively vicious. Why was this one so different from her car? Were they the same kind or-

Her blood ran cold within her veins and she screamed again as she shuffled behind and away from the pillar she had been backed up against, her energy suddenly returning as she dodged between various pieces of junk like a pro basketball player in her escape from the Demon Cop.

She had put a reasonable distance (or so she thought) between herself and the black and white robot and had almost made it to the exit when she heard a foreboding 'whoosh' behind her accompanied by the not-so-pleasant sound of hydraulics. Squealing, she ducked as she felt something fly over her and land right in her way. She could only stare dumbly for a few seconds; the Demon Cop had jumped over all the junk she had run amongst and intercepted her.

She didn't need to think as she backpedaled and ran to the right, still aiming for the exit. The movement was a waste of energy however as she quickly found herself dodging the monochrome robot's swipes at her head in such a way that she was, once again, backed against a pillar.

"Aw shit…"

* * *

**End of Chapter Four: Upside-Down**

* * *

**Next Chapter: Chapter Five: Halfway Around the Universe**

**Author's Notes:**

The first part took so long, but after Mikaela's P.O.V. it took less than an hour.

- I had to put a little bit of femininity into Sam's character… The nail thing suits her because I'd imagine her to be one of those people who go off into a daze, staring at nothing particular…

Next chapter shall feature the omgsocool chase scene. Also: You can bet that Sam and Mikaela have bruises on their bums. Seriously; Sam's a Track STAR; she could go to speeds of 25mp/h if she really wanted to, so… that's like getting hit by a small, slow motorcycle or something… Not nice, or so I'd imagine.

I'll give you 3 chances to guess who that caller was but you won't even need one…

(And shit it's been more than a week)

Thank you to:

Insanechildfanfic, flamingmarsh (maybe), SomeReallyRandomPerson, Elita One, Razorgaze, Fk 306 animelover, EasterOfFlesh, Garnet Princess, Narnian Sprite, CheshireMax, Black White and Shades of Grey, Niteskye (Speilberg ref. lol), LoveHopes, RavageStar (ILU), KitsuneyJenfner & Desert hermi.

-bot


	5. 5 Halfway Around the Universe

**Chapter:** Chapter Five: Halfway Around the Universe  
**Chapter Summary:** Pack a lunch; we're going on a road trip!  
**Word Count:** 4, 148  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers: The Movie (Either of them) or Transformers: The Animated Series (Any of them). They belong to Hasbro and what have you. I also don't own any franchises or songs or movie references you may notice. I just own an over-active imagination.  
**Rating:** (T)-(PG-13)  
**Warnings:** Bad Humor, Gender-bending. SPOILERS!  
**Author's Note:** Barricade. It was Barricade, you dolts (ILUALL, really). Sam didn't try to sell her ancestor's priceless crap on eBay; she was tracked down the old fashioned way.

* * *

**Chapter Five: Halfway Around the Universe**

So this was Death.

Sam had never imagined it to be red and metallic and so very terrifying (to tell the truth she'd never imagined it at all).

But it was. And strangely it was demanding to know her name. So strange. Didn't Death keep a record or something? A schedule to tell it who it had to reap on a certain day?

"Are you Samantha J. Witwicky? Owner of a 1976 Chevrolet Camaro, License number: 489–PCE?" So strange that it seemed to know that she owned a Camaro but it wasn't sure of her name.

She couldn't bring herself to answer the beast (or the Demon Cop as she was referring to it now); no matter how much it shouted at her. Every time she tried she would freeze up and press herself even harder against the pillar she was backed up against. It seemed patient enough; repeating the question over and over, though it was in a much louder and more thunderous tone each time. Yet, she just couldn't answer.

It may have had something to do with the fact that she was close to hyperventilating at the robot's proximity. It was, quite literally, in her face; so much so that she could barely see anything apart from the two large red lights that seemed to be intent on blinding her.

It was beyond freaky.

Fortunately, she was saved from a full on panic attack by the revving of an engine. The giant alien drew back and turned its head, the lights it had for eyes becoming narrow strips, almost like oddly positioned leaser beams. If Sam had to guess, she'd say that the robot was annoyed at something.

She couldn't quite bring herself to care, however; she was too busy fleeing for her life. She wasted no time in jolting away from the fierce looking robot and making a quick exit and before she knew it she was outside and with a burst of sunshine came the almost holy vision of a road.

And also the image of a girl on a motorcycle coming her way.

"Turn around! Stop!" She waved her arms frantically at the girl but she didn't seem to hear her as she carried on towards her, slowing down as she prepared to stop.

Gritting her teeth in annoyance Sam sped up and gripped the girls arm as she passed her and was almost immediately caught in the backlash of the two opposing forces working against each other. Landing ungracefully on her backside she took a moment to fully wince at the sensation before pulling herself and the girl back up onto their feet.

The girl, as it were, was Mikaela Banes and she didn't seem to appreciate that Sam was trying to save her from a lot of trauma, didn't even seem to understand the fact that there was a robot after her, even going so far as to get her name wrong as she shouted in righteous aggravation. Sam would let that faux pas go; they couldn't waste time.

"I'll explain later, just get your bike, we have to go!" But it looked to be too late because just as the girls had managed to haul the bike upright the black robot made a reappearance.

Mikaela being the first to notice was thoroughly stupefied.

"What is that?" The taller girl's words came out in a whisper and Sam, being busy trying to start the bike, almost missed them but she quickly understood when the ground seemed to tremble slightly beneath her feet and she looked up to see the Demon Cop running towards them.

"Oh no… Quick, come on, get on the bike; we have to go!" Sam tried to get the girl to move but she seemed transfixed, "Look, we can't stay he-"

Apparently, they had no choice in the matter because at that exact moment Sam's car sped towards them; swerving sharply around them, a move that caused both girls to shriek and throw themselves to the side, and going on to sweep the legs of the Demon Cop out from under him. It would have been a comical sight had the transformed police car not looked so deadly, even when falling down.

In a matter of seconds- and maybe that was why she made such a rash decision- Sam's Camaro had made a neat U-turn and before she knew it the car was by their side and she was pushing Mikaela towards the open passenger's door.

"What're you-"

"Just get in!" She gave the girl a solid shove, pushing her firmly into the passenger's seat, and jumped in after her just as the door closed; bumping into her backside and propelling her forward into the taller girl's lap.

Coughing as a bony knee knocked the air out of her Sam hoped that this would be the first and last time she ever got into a car with Mikaela Banes. The girl was shouting and fidgeting which, apart from being very annoying, was unsettling her precarious position (not at all helped by the swerving of the car) and was quickly causing Sam to add a bruised midsection to her list of injuries for the day.

Growling slightly in agitation Sam decided that her current position was a disaster waiting to happen so bracing her feet against the passenger door she gripped the gear shift with one hand while the other latched onto Mikaela's shoulder and with one big push she found herself sprawled oddly in the driver's seat. Twisting and turning with a great amount of difficulty (the car still seemed to be doing some sort of jarring, serpentine movement) Sam finally found herself sitting upright just as the shouts of the girl beside her rose in volume.

"What is up with you? The car is driving itself, so _what_?" Sam glared halfheartedly at the popular girl. She couldn't blame her for being panicked (hadn't she reacted in a similar way a few nights ago?) but all her shouting was grinding away at her last nerves.

In response Mikaela simply pointed towards something in front of them, all the while continuing her mantra (which just consisted of 'Oh my God, oh my God! We're gonna die! Oh my God!').

Raising a brow Sam turned to look out of the windshield to see a large window speeding towards them, or rather, see the large window _they_ were speeding towards.

"Oh-my-God!" She exclaimed, her hands flying up to cover her eyes.

Crying out at the reverberating sound of breaking glass Sam pulled her knees up to shield her torso as she peeked out from between her fingers to stare at the blur that was the outside world.

"This was _such_ a bad idea!"

* * *

Staring out of the window, stiff, Sam wondered when they were going to go home.

The screaming had stopped long ago and their task now, it seemed, was to simply avoid the evil police car.

They'd been driving for hours with absolutely no change of scenery, occasionally they would take a roundabout country road before winding up back in the town centre but those little trips were few and far between. The once bright sky was reaching the first stages of evening and the two girls inside the yellow Camaro were sitting on the edge of their seats; mindful not to touch the car anymore than they had to.

Mikaela sighed, another long heaving sigh in the stead of many others, as she continued to stare at the steering wheel as if it held all the answers she was looking for.

"Stop sighing so much, it's annoying." Sam grunted weakly, her back (all her body parts, actually) were aching from being stuck in a single position for so long; she was surprised she'd managed to keep up the posture for so many hours.

"Well excuse me for being bored out of my mind, Pam! I don't know about you but I'd imagined that being chased by a weird robo-cop would be a bit more exciting than this!" Mikaela protested.

Sam's brow gave an uncontrolled tick, her fingers twitching on her knees.

"Firstly, my name's Sam. You know from Samantha? S-A-M," the disgruntled girl bit out frostily, "And secondly, why would you think being chased by a 'robo-cop', as you put it, be exciting? Maybe the fumes from your hairspray have finally damaged your brain because I don't see how getting chased by a giant, obviously evil alien robot could be exciting! God, what do you people do for fun to find that kind of situation _exciting_?"

"It's an alien?" the tanned girl had suddenly gone very pale.

"Why would a robo-_cop_ go after random teenage girls?" Sam deadpanned, not at all amused, "Because if you've got something to hide, tell me now and I'll gladly push you out of the window so that it can collect you, since the doors are _so_ conveniently locked."

'_Did she just get paler?' _Sam thought, a vicious grin taking over her features as she turned towards the other girl fully.

"What, you have something to hide, Mikaela?" She almost sang the other girl's name, grin plastered upon her face.

She was refused an answer however as the car slowed down.

"Are we stopping?" Mikaela whispered, leaning forward to get a good look at their new surroundings, all memory of their conversation erased from her mind.

"Where are we?" Sam frowned; there were a lot of danger signs around this place, literally.

"Looks like a power plant… Are we going to hide here?"

"I hope not… we'd just be waiting to get caught…" Sam muttered as she spotted the fading resonance of police lights not too far away.

The girls waited with baited breath as the yellow car slowed down to a crawl, its engine almost silent as it maneuvered around various buildings and fences. Finally, they reversed between two warehouses and the car's engine turned off.

Sam being the first to spot the silent, flashing lights of a police car, leaned back and slid down in her seat until she could just barely see over the steering wheel.

"There it is," she whispered, her words prompting the other girl to assume a position similar to hers.

Gripping the door handle tightly, just in case the doors unlocked, Sam wondered if Miles would have to do what she asked him to; it was close to evening and she hadn't been paying any particular attention to where the car had been taking them; who knew when she'd be able to make it home?

She tried hard not to add 'if ever' to the end of that train of thought.

Pressing her back against her seat Sam braced herself as the Camaro's engine suddenly came to life, speeding towards the police car that was trying to box them in.

"Oh God, we're gonna hit it." Mikaela whimpered; her face contorted in despair.

Tightening her grip on the door handle Sam shook her head and even as she reached up to hold the overhead hand grip with her right hand, she said softly, "No, we're not."

'_I hope,' _she added in her mind pathetically.

The girls watched as the Camaro made it past the cruiser just in time. Sam's heart skipped a beat, both cars had been going very fast, too fast; if they'd hit each other it would have been a disaster.

Neither of the passengers relaxed once they'd made it clear of the police car; they could see that they weren't heading towards an exit. They were trapped, bound to be witnesses to an alien duel that could and probably would cause them injuries. They could only hope that injuries were the worst of what was to come.

Suddenly the car made a one hundred and eighty turn and flung open the passenger's door.

Mikaela went flying out of the car with a squawk; completely unprepared for such a deployment.

Sam, however, hung suspended above the gear shift in a strange acrobatic position for a second before swinging back into her seat with a soft_ thwump_. Applauding her idea to hang onto both the door handle and the hand grip she let out a triumphant "Ha!" at the steering wheel as she let go of her safety handles.

This action came a little too soon however as her seat unpremeditatedly rose and then tilted sharply to the right.

With frantic grabbing motions and an undignified screech Sam found herself sprawled on the ground next to Mikaela who'd, apparently, seen no need to move from where she'd landed from her departure of the car.

"Ugh, how many times has this happened today?" Sam grouched as she pulled herself up, having no desire to stay on the ground more than necessary. Absentmindedly she reached down and pulled the other girl to her feet as her car started to transform again.

"What now?" The taller girl grumbled, brushing herself off and backing away from the yellow robot as the police cruiser made a beeline for them.

Sam only needed to see the police car start to transform again to make her decision.

"We get the hell away from here." Taking the other girl's arm Sam pulled her back, quickly making a backward jog away from the two robots. They'd made it a relatively safe distance away before Mikaela noticed the Demon Cop shoot a flying silver _thing_ out of its chest.

"What the hell is that?!" She shouted, speeding up her backward steps as Sam stared in abject horror at the silver creature making its way towards them.

"Run!" With little difficulty Sam wrenched Mikaela around and dragged her forward as she picked her way through the rapidly falling darkness.

"What is that?!" Mikaela shouted again, trying to keep up with Sam's long, practiced strides as she tried to look over her shoulder at the spindly robot running after them.

"We gotta split up!" Sam told the girl, trying to keep her voice level; who knew if that robot could hear them?

"_What_?!" Mikaela didn't seem at all worried about the possibility of the silver deathtrap hearing them.

"Look, we have to, alright? You're slowing me down; dragging you is making me even more tired than I already am, if it catches us there'll be nothing we could do! We'll split up and if it goes after you, I'll find something to hit it with, if it comes after me, _you_ find something to hit it with!" She turned her head slightly to look at the other girl, "Okay?"

The other girl nodded and speeding up Sam gave Mikaela a soft push to the left as she ran to the right.

It just had to be her luck that the little monster went after her.

Turning her head to glare at the silver thing vindictively, she sped up. It could follow her, but it wouldn't catch her.

The little robot didn't stand a chance.

* * *

"Something to hit… Something to hit… Right, 'Let's split up! If it goes after you, I'll find something to hit it with!'" Mikaela mocked spitefully as she rushed around a small utility shed structure before growling at a locked door as she gave it a hard kick, "If only there was something to hit the damn robot with!"

As if in answer to all her complaining the door gave way under the force of her kick and revealed shelves upon shelves of electric tools.

"Am I lucky or what?" She whispered to herself, suddenly breathless as she rushed into the small room.

* * *

Sam decided that she was having way too much fun.

That munchkin of a robot had teased her in that lot, she knew it. Now she was getting sweet, sweet revenge on the twitchy little malfunction.

It was surprisingly easy too. The robot may have had a longer reach but Sam was faster and she'd figured out a reasonable evasion tactic that made her smile in vengeful glee as the robot sputtered and clicked and shrieked in what she could only guess was annoyance.

Yes, she was having way too much fun. She outright giggled when the robot fell for a feint that caused it to collide with a nearby chain link fence, some of the spindles on its jagged head getting caught in the links.

"Sam! Move out of the way!" Backing a safe distance away from the spastic little robot Sam turned to see Mikaela running towards her with a reciprocating saw.

"Well…" The surprised word was the only thing she could think to say as she watched the tanned girl hack away at the robot. She watched, slightly disturbed, as Mikaela acquired an almost manic gleam in her eye (which prompted Sam to take a cautious step back, away from the apparently spontaneously psychotic, reciprocating saw wielding girl) as she aimed a kick at the robot's disconnected head that would have made the entire Tranquillity Football Team proud.

"So, what do we do now?" Sam only raised a speculative eyebrow at the girl who was resting her weapon against her shoulder.

* * *

"Found it yet?" Sam practically stuttered, rubbing her arms; with her heartbeat winding down she was slowly getting more and more susceptible to the chill of the evening air.

After thoroughly dismantling the body of the silver robot, Mikaela had politely replaced the saw she held and together they had decided to find an exit. However, Mikaela insisted they find her bag first (which she'd apparently had with her all day and had dropped somewhere in her rush to find some sort of weapon), this was proving very difficult as twilight was quickly approaching and with it the cold of night-time temperatures.

"No, it was around here… somewhere…" Sam let out a long irritated sigh, trying to stop her teeth from chattering as she hopped from one foot to the next in an attempt to warm up her limbs, "You could try helping me!"

"I tried, it made me colder than I already am," Sam said tartly, in her opinion she'd done too much for the girl in one day than she'd ever really done for anyone else, "And besides, I've helped you enough today."

"Oh yes, you drag me around to God knows where in your possessed car, cause me to get chased by a freaky robotic thing- Do you know how many bruises I can feel right now?" Her rant would have been more effective had she not been on her hands and knees, squinting and feeling for her bag.

"Right, and you would have liked to stay in that lot where the Demon Cop would have run you over? Or maybe I should have just let you drive right at it? Or maybe you would've liked me to leave you with that Preda-bot while I ran out of this forsaken power plant, because you know, outrunning you and Preda-bot would have been no challenge at all after I was chased by Satan's Camaro and the Demon Cop this morning," Sam glared at the girl's back, "Yeah, I'm kinda regretting _not_ doing all of that right now."

Silence enveloped them and Sam had no wish to stop it.

"Come on," Mikaela stood a few minutes later, bag in hand, "I found it. Let's find a way out of-oh-dear-God."

"What now?" Sam released a long suffering sigh as Mikaela pointed behind her. Did she even want to look?

Turning slowly Sam found herself looking at big, metallic yellow legs. How had she not heard this thing coming? Looking up until her eyes reached the robot's head she raised a brow at the surprisingly human face that greeted her, illuminated by twin blue lights which she could only take to be eyes.

Taking a few steps back so that she would not need to bend her neck back so much Sam simply waved at the robot, not at all trusting her voice.

To her surprise the robot waved back, quite cheerily too, emitting a few short electronic chirrups.

"Hi," She tried, looking at the robot expectantly.

A dozen different voices in several languages replied, she assumed all of them said 'Hello'.

She smiled and waved some more, the robot didn't seem to mind her lame response as it waved again before moving back a little and then kneeling down in front of her, slowly extending a hand with on outstretched finger.

She could only stare; the robot really did have an almost human face. The features were all the same as a human male's except for the lack of hair and the glowing eyes. It was amazing. Unlike a human face the robot's seemed to be made of many sheets of metal, overlapping and contouring over his face to allow expression; currently he was wearing a disarming smile.

"Hello," she said redundantly as she reached out and gripped the robot's outstretched finger with one hand in an awkward handshake, faintly noting how warm the single finger was.

"What is it?" Mikaela whispered, leaning on Sam's shoulder, partially shielding herself with the smaller girl.

"My car…" Concluding that gawping at the robot would not get her anywhere Sam gathered her remaining nerves and addressed the yellow robot, asking something that had been bothering her for a while; "What were you doing in that junkyard?"

The robot pointed up towards the sky while playing several film and radio clips, all of which were in one way or another associated with sending messages, and a strange electronic overlay that Sam could just about discern from the other sounds and voices.

"So… Where are you from? Why are you here?" Feeling braver Sam asked about something else that had been bothering her.

This time she received a jumble of Star Trek (or maybe it was Stargate? Sam had never liked those shows, so she couldn't be sure) quotes which she dismissed; she was more concerned with that electronic overlay. It was strained and it blanked out in a few places but she could just about hear something, a word; definitely not English… like a bad translation.

"Cybertron?" She blurted out, frowning.

"What's Cybertron?" Mikaela asked her as the robot seemed to jerk back ever so slightly before transforming back into a Chevrolet Camaro, its passenger door wide open.

"You-you want us to go with you?" Sam questioned, putting the indefinable word away for later scrutiny as she looked speculatively through the windshield.

Applause was her reply.

Sam stood silently for a while, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to think of something to say, anything to say, but her mind had gone blank. Finally, looking up at the starless sky she made for the car door with a mellow shrug.

"Wait!" Mikaela yelled as she grasped Sam's arm, halting her steps, "Where do you think you're going?"

"I dunno, he hasn't said yet," she motioned to the still car.

"Y-you're just going to go? With the alien car?"

"Well, it is my car. Can't let him get lost on his own now, can I?" Sam said dryly, giving the taller girl a flat look.

"But_ why_?" The girl looked desperate.

"Why are you so concerned? If I remember correctly you were just complaining about how I dragged you around to 'God knows where'. I'm just going to do what I want to do and you can do what you want to do. Now, let go," pulling her arm free Sam continued on her way, "Besides, I don't want to be around when the Demon Cop comes back."

Reaching the passenger door she entered gingerly and sat still for a few seconds before relaxing in her seat, her protesting muscles quieting in relief.

"Alright, Camaro, go on," A dull excitement bubbled in her stomach as she tried to pull her door closed.

"Wait! I'm coming with you!" Sam's excitement wilted away instantly.

Trying hard not to glare at the girl holding her door open she said begrudgingly, "Get in the driver's seat then."

The other girl blinked, "I'm not gonna sit there. He's going to be driving."

Sam replied instantly.

"Well I'm not sharing my seat, get in the back," Sam watched with amusement as Mikaela's face clouded over.

"I'm not sitting in the back!" She whispered hotly.

"Right, of course not, because the Camaro's invisible little maintenance gnomes are sitting there," Sam deadpanned, the girl hesitated, sneaking a glance at the backseat, "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

"Okay then… Why don't… Why don't I sit on your lap then?" The afternoon's events flashed through Sam's mind as she was reminded of her bruised stomach.

'_You're going to regret that, Miss Priss,'_ Sam thought with glee.

"Alright then, your call," Sam agreed easily but the instant Mikaela sat down she was the one regretting her devious little plan.

"Get off! Get off! Get off! Dear Lord, you're heavy! What do you eat?!"

* * *

**End of Chapter Five: Halfway Around the Universe**

* * *

**Next Chapter: Chapter Six: Meet the Family**

**Author's Notes: (Sorry this is long. Again)**

Sorry this is late; I was busy… (This also accounts for why this chapter is a little boring) But hey! I love this chapter! It has so much foreshadowing it's _crazy_. I didn't even mean to do most of it! It's mostly little words and phrases etc. but it is _so_ obvious (to me anyway).

Cars don't have hand grips on the driver's side, but let's pretend Bumblebee does.

Did anyone notice that the so called 'Robot-speak' in the movie was really very… understandable? I mean Frenzy was a bit hard to understand but during the Decepticon roll-call I was just like- "Did they have budgeting cuts or something?" because it was really obvious that they'd really made no effort with the alien language. Anyway, Sam's little talent will be explained… Much later, like sequel later, maybe…

**NOTE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER:****  
About the robot designs:  
1: Their Faces:** Please use your imagination and picture the TFs to have G1-like faces (especially their eyes) only with the same amount of details as the movie TFs. This goes for every TF EXCEPT Megatron. Why? Because in the movie Megatron is still in protoform and hasn't scanned an earth machine. I imagine that the _only_ reason TFs have human faces is because they're trying to imitate humans. Okay? Got all that? I'll give as much description as I can but just bear with me.  
**2: Their voices:** Please for the love of all that is holy imagine their **G1 voices**. Maybe not as high pitched but still, think of the same tone and accent they had in G1. This goes for every TF EXCEPT Megatron and Starscream, I like their new voices; they suit them.  
**3: Their hands:** G1-type hands (Four fingers, one thumb), movie designs. Please. (I think this is a given. I mean, _WTF_ is up with Jazz's _pincers_?)  
**4: Ratchet's Design:** I refuse to accept that puke yellow/green thing so I google searched for a while until I found this Ford F450 turned ambulance. It's the best I could do, I'm sorry.  
Remove the spaces:  
** www. evginc. net/trucks/showTruck.asp?TruckID69**

Thanks for letting me waste your time. I'm done for now.

Thanks to:

KitsuneyJenfner, SomeReallyRandomPerson, Razorgaze (Did you get it?), blood shifter, Dragon260, Garnet Princess, flamingmarsh (See your review for Chapter 3), Elita One, LoveHopes, Narnian Sprite, ChesireMax, Sinead Rivka, PadawanCassy, Fk306 animelover, flarey phoenix, RavageStar (ITTLYLU), Niteskye and morning sun.

-bot


	6. 6 Meet the Family

**Chapter:** Chapter Six: Meet the Family  
**Chapter Summary:** Every family has its quirks…  
**Word Count:** 6, 272  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers: The Movie (Either of them) or Transformers: The Animated Series (Any of them). They belong to Hasbro and what have you. I also don't own any franchises or songs or movie references you may notice. I just own an over-active imagination.  
**Rating:** (T) - (PG-13)  
**Warnings:** Bad Humor, Gender-bending. SPOILERS!  
**Author's Note:** There are many definitions for 'Family', remember that.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Meet the Family**

Why was she always stuck in the worst positions? Sam lamented her loss of the comfortable passenger seat as the yellow Camaro drove peacefully to an unknown destination, trying to sit in a way that would make her as heavy as possible.

Mikaela Banes was more trouble than she was worth, even if Sam felt she had to giver her some respect; the girl was determined.

Their little seating issue had quickly gotten out of control to the point where they were shouting and Sam had exited the car so that she could stand her ground properly against the taller girl. It was silly, but neither girl was willing to allow a compromise.

It was ironic that in the end they'd had their minds made up for them by the car which the seat belonged to.

Their shouts had been nearing deafening levels when the Camaro had given an ear shattering roar of its engine before rolling forward, slowly picking up speed. The message was clear: Hurry up or you get left behind.

That had been enough to shock the girls out of their argument and had sent them both running after the car as if the hounds of hell were biting at their ankles. They'd made a lunge for the much coveted seat at the same time and after much complaining and fumbling Sam had found herself sitting in Mikaela's lap, looking out of the driver's window.

The glare that seemed to inhabit her face all too regularly increased in strength as she stared moodily out of the driver's window; her position was not at all good for her. A dull ache had started to spread through her back and she had to constantly flex her calf muscles and toes to keep them from going stiff; dehydration had set in long ago and it was not helping the headache that had been, inevitably, caused by the throbbing half of her face, not to mention that she was hungry. It wouldn't be long before she started trembling from her lack of energy.

Huffing, she braced a hand against the dashboard and another against the backrest of her 'seat' and turned slowly to the side, performing one of the moves her physiotherapist had taught her. Her vertebrae clicked slightly and she released a contented sigh at the relief that swept through her back.

"Don't do that!" Mikaela whined, an expression of mild disgust on her face.

"Sorry, I'll just accept my future as a hunchback so that you don't have to be _too_ grossed out," Sam muttered hotly, leaning back against the passenger door roughly, jarring the taller girl's leg as she did so.

"Would you stop being so annoying? I know you think I'm shallow and that I'm some jock's cheerleader but can you just give me a break? I'm stuck in the same situation as you, you know!" Sam merely rolled her eyes.

"Oh, I don't think you're shallow, I _know_ you're shallow," Sam retorted without remorse, "Let me up."

She'd had enough of the girl for one day; pride be damned, she was going to the backseat- at least she could lay down back there.

"Stop it! Somebody will see!" Mikaela cried frantically, trying to pull the petite girl back onto her lap while twisting her head this way and that to look at the drivers around them.

"Let go!" Sam knew she was being difficult, in fact she was doing it intentionally; she wasn't made for tolerating girls like Mikaela, it just wasn't in her standards, and today she'd had to endure more than enough stress without arguing repeatedly with the girl.

She wasn't going to allow it anymore, she couldn't; she had reached the end of her patience with the girl and if she didn't put some space between them she would not take responsibility for anything that she did.

Stumbling into the backseat, as the popular girl finally gave up on trying to keep Sam with her in the front, she toed off her running shoes, resisting the urge to whimper pitifully and mourn their battered state. Drawing her legs up onto the large seat she slowly eased herself down so that she could lie comfortably without disrupting any of her bruises.

A smile spread across Sam's face as the seat warmed slightly beneath her and the noises from the outside seemed to die away. The Camaro was good at cheering her up, even if she wasn't the one behind the wheel.

* * *

She shouldn't have gotten into the car.

It was stupid, and she didn't know what she had thought she could get out of it. Mikaela heaved a depressed sighed and glanced into the rearview mirror. Sam was sleeping peacefully in the back, as if she wasn't really laying in the backseat of a car that turned into an alien robot but her own bed. She didn't understand Samantha Witwicky.

She had been trying figure out just what went on in that girl's head for hours now but she'd had no luck; she'd never met another so much like her. She knew, from passing rumors and gossiped, half-false stories, that Sam was notorious for getting into verbal spats with her friends and that she openly expressed her dislike for the football team and Mikaela knew that if outright brawling would not create a big, black stain on Sam's perfect record then her friends would have something to worry about and, judging from her experience today, the Football team wouldn't be able to catch her if she ever did something stupid to the buffoons.

She had a temper, that was certain, she could think on her feet and was even faster moving on them and apparently she had no problem with confronting alien robots. And that was all Mikaela knew about Samantha Witwicky.

She didn't like it. She didn't like how the girl could make assumptions about her and be so near the truth, so close to her own fears. Frowning, she ducked her head. She didn't like people like Sam; people who acted like they knew everything about everyone, never stopping to think that maybe, just maybe, others didn't lead perfect, happy lives like themselves.

Shaking her head, she yawned shortly while wrapping her arms around herself defensively (she would admit that she was still wary of the alien car), it was pointless to carry on thinking the way she was at that moment; it would get her nowhere in her current situation. She just wished they could get on, just for a little while, so that they could get through whatever they were going to face soon. Settling oddly in her seat Mikaela turned her head towards the night sky and prepared for a long night, perfectly appeased to stare at the endless darkness.

* * *

She didn't know how long it had been since Sam had fallen asleep but Mikaela had long since started feeling sleep's slow descent upon her. She hadn't felt very tired back at the power plant but it seemed that the rush of danger had faded and with it her energy. She couldn't imagine what the girl in the backseat must have gone through to fall asleep so quickly after running for her life. But as tired as she was, Mikaela would not relent and close her eyes; her brain wouldn't allow her to do such a thing, conjuring a million and one possible things that could happen if she fell asleep, each less desirable than the last.

Her resolve seemed to be a good one, however, as she would never have noticed something glaring in the distance had she been asleep.

Straightening and stretching as best she could Mikaela leaned forward on the dashboard and narrowed her eyes at the light in the sky. At first she thought it was a plane, or maybe a very bright city light but these ideas were soon discarded as she continued to stare at the object in the sky. Soon she realized that it couldn't have been a plane or a light, it was moving too fast and it wasn't white, the light it exuded was bright orange, as if it was burning and the closer it got she realized that it wasn't a single entity at all but four separate ones and suddenly she drew back as her eyes widened.

"Sam, wake up," she whispered, her breath caught almost painfully in her throat. She needed to make sure she wasn't imagining things, that she really was seeing those... meteors...?

"Wake up, Sam." She said firmly, much louder than before, a slight note of panic sinking into her voice, a tremble that was easily noticeable in the silence of the car.

"Sam, wake up! Sam!" She couldn't discern what the burning objects were, their flames dancing around them as they sped towards earth, but she knew that they weren't meteors.

"Sa-"

"_What_?" The sleepy, and very grouchy, girl growled, opening an eye to see Mikaela panicking in the front, "What's wrong? Is the Demon Cop back?"

She was sitting upright in an instant and Mikaela winced when the girl flinched dramatically at the fast movement, she'd most likely pulled at a bruised muscle, before shaking her head and stumbling into the driver's seat, grabbing her running shoes as she went.

"Look, up in the sky," Mikaela explained softly, feeling sorry for her previous thoughts of the girl; she was obviously in pain and if she had been in the same position she had no doubt that she too would be more than a little irritated at everything.

"Fire?" The girl said distractedly, giving the burning objects a passing glance as she rubbed at her eyes tiredly, "You woke me up to look at fire in the… sky?"

Blinking, the girl realized what she had said and, gripping the steering wheel, pushed herself forward to look at the burning lights making a rapid fall into the atmosphere with wide eyes.

* * *

"Should we get out of the car?" Mikaela ventured, looking around the wide alley between two old warehouses they had finally stopped in.

The girls had spent a good ten minutes overreacting and speculating before Sam finally declared that they would just have to sit and wait patiently as she didn't believe that her car would put them in danger, not when it had saved them back at the power plant. There was also the fact that she'd promised herself that she'd see this journey to the end, wherever that may be, and so would stay with her car no matter what. The robot's presence was comforting now that she knew he wasn't going to squash her under one of his big feet, or something along those lines, as she had thought he would do when she'd first seen him in the junkyard.

"Probably," She murmured, hesitantly opening her door and stepping out into the cold air of the night.

Stepping back Sam looked over the top of her car to Mikaela, "How long was I asleep?"

"An hour, maybe two… I wasn't paying attention," The girl answered, wrapping her denim jacket around herself tightly, trying not to shiver.

"So you didn't pay any attention to where we were going?" The girl shook her head and Sam frowned, "You do realize we may not even be in California anymore, right?"

"Does it matter anymore?" The other girl whispered back, looking at the ground.

Sam sighed, of course it didn't, it hadn't mattered from the moment they'd both decided to get in the car. Looking up she studied the sky; she could only see a deep blue hue behind the thin clouds, the meteors (though she doubted that was what they truly were) had probably crashed by now. Suppressing a shiver at the thought she turned back to Mikaela.

"No, it doesn't matter anymore."

A few more minutes passed with the girls standing, hugging themselves to keep from the cold, in tense silence, periodically throwing glances at the Camaro between them and then at either end of the alley, waiting for something. After a particularly violent tremble Sam's knee jerked worryingly causing to her to sigh with annoyance; she needed to conserve her energy but standing in the frigid air was not helping her sore body at all.

"Are you alright?" Mikaela called from the other side of the Camaro.

"Peachy," she answered shortly, not meaning to sound so ungrateful at the girl's concern, and at her words the Camaro rolled forward, away from the girls and transformed.

After a few seconds of studying the two girls the robot walked to a wall, settling down against it, before making a beckoning gesture towards the teenagers. Tilting her head, and acting much braver than she felt, Sam approached, her brows lifting as she felt the warmth radiating from the robot.

Stopping a few meters in front of the yellow robot she looked at his face inquiringly and the robot gestured for her to get closer still, a warm, reassuring smile on his metallic face. Faltering but quickly steeling her nerves she took a few more steps and stood, a little warily, next to one of his large, bent legs. She jumped slightly as he reached down and she stiffly let the robot push her gently towards his closest leg, relaxing when he stopped pushing and let her lean against a warm metal calf, his large hand still around her; shielding her from the coldness that hung in the alley. She watched as the robot turned towards Mikaela and gestured for her to go to him as well.

"Come on, Mikaela; he's warm," She called reassuringly, though she probably didn't need to as the girl hurried to them when she heard Sam's last words; quickly huddling against the robots leg with Sam.

Finally comfortable, leaning limply against the Camaro's leg, the girls waited in complacent silence for whatever the robot had brought them to the alley for.

Less than half an hour later, when Sam's senses were thoroughly dulled and heavy with warmth and lack of energy, the robot stirred, turning his head to the mouth of the alley. The sudden movement did not go unnoticed by the two girls.

"Are they here?" Mikaela questioned, standing on her tiptoes to peek over the robot's hand and in the direction in which he was staring, "I see something…"

"What? What is it? How big is it big?" Sam immediately threw at the girl, perking up and also standing on her tiptoes to peer over the robot's hand, though she failed in that particular endeavor.

"Looks like a truck," Mikaela answered dumbly, staring at the approaching semi, "It is a truck, it's blue and… looks like it has red flames…"

"Move, I wanna see!" As Sam uttered this, the sounds of several engines rang out behind them, "More of them? How many meteors were there?"

"Four…" Mikaela recalled, turning to squint in the light smog for the other vehicles.

Soon the vehicles were assembled around them, each looking as impressive as the next with their large statures and shiny paint, and Sam impatiently tapped her car's fingers, latching onto Mikaela's arm as she did so, and squeezed between the first gap the robot made between his hand and leg to run to the center of the circle the cars made, facing the large semi.

And suddenly she didn't feel very confident. The truck was huge; almost twice her height, and if she guessed correctly then the size of the vehicle corresponded with the size of the robot, and if this was true then the truck was… much, much bigger than her car… With this thought in mind she fleetingly considered running back to her Camaro.

Clearing her throat and failing slightly due to the dryness in her mouth Sam took a small step forward, looking from the nose of the truck to the windshield, "Hello?"

The truck responded by shifting its grill, continuing on backwards to transform completely. This, it seemed, was the signal for the other vehicles because as soon as the semi started unraveling to reveal a robot they too began their own transformations.

"Oh my God," Mikaela breathed as she rested a hand on Sam's shoulder, drawing closer to both Sam and the new robot.

After what seemed like an eternity the robot stood at its full height and looked down at the two girls and Sam wondered if this was how misbehaving children felt when they had been caught by their strict and unrelenting father.

The robot stared down at them before kneeling down. The action caused her breath to hitch in her throat several times before she could breathe easily; it was much more disconcerting to watch this robot kneel down in front of them, he was much bigger, almost twice the size of her Camaro, and he held an infinitely more severe face. Once again, she marveled at how human their faces looked; the semi's face seemed to be modeled to look exactly like a human's, just like her Camaro's, various curved and slanted plates fitted together, moving smoothly as the robot blinked, the tip of the robot's almost Roman nose twitching ever so slightly as it opened its too human lips to speak.

"Are you Samantha Jenna Witwicky, descendant of Archibald Witwicky?" A deep voice rumbled from the robot, calm and authoritative, his question making Sam tense and lean back as the robot brought its face closer to her.

Beside her Mikaela squeaked at the robot's recognition and shuffled closer to her, Sam could understand her sentiments exactly.

"Ye-" The word caught in her throat, she tried again, "Yeah."

"My name is Optimus Prime. We are autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron," Sam's eyes widened in understanding and she spared a darting glance back at the yellow robot standing to her right.

"Or, more conveniently, Autobots," The interjection came from the white Ford ambulance, who was studying them a little too keenly for Sam's comfort, on their left.

"Autobots?" Mikaela repeated, not looking away from the tall Optimus Prime.

"What's up, homies?" The grey sports car called to the two girls, flipping impressively in a way that vaguely reminded Sam of a dance move.

"My first lieutenant, designation: Jazz," Optimus Prime explained.

"This looks like a cool place to kick it," the sports car, Jazz, commented, executing another move which was reminiscent of a dance sequence, before jumping back slightly to lounge on an already battered car; all the while smiling charmingly as he used a metallic finger to lift one end of the glass visor that shielded his eyes to wink at the girls.

Sam and Mikaela stared, mouths hanging wide open.

"H-How-Where did he-Why is he speaking like that?" Sam asked awkwardly, trying to muster up her remaining confidence.

"We have learned Earth's languages through the World Wide Web," Optimus Prime provided once again as the girls wrenched their gazes away from the reclining robot and turned their attentions back towards him.

"Huh," was the girls' simultaneous reply.

Sam opened her mouth to speak but promptly forgot what she was going to say as she heard a sound behind her that gave her goose-bumps; Optimus Prime's ever present explanation did nothing for her nerves as she turned to look at the large, transformed black GMC truck.

"My weapons specialist, Ironhide," Sam resisted the urge to hide behind her Camaro's legs as the robot spun two large cylindrical objects on his arms in the same manner as old western cowboys did with their guns in the black and white movies. Her nerves just about shattered when the ends of the two cylinders started glowing, one blue and the other orange, with a foreboding whine as the GMC truck just about quoted Clint Eastwood.

"Are ya feeling lucky, punks?"

"Easy, Ironhide!" Optimus Prime reprimanded sharply, his voice rising slightly, "Put them away, they're unarmored femmes, leave them be!"

"Prime's right, Ironhide, their hormone levels are spiking sporadically with large amounts of adrenaline; they're afraid," the ambulance commented and Ironhide, the GMC truck, backed away sulkily.

'_Lovely, a robot who can smell fear,'_ Sam despaired internally, trying her best to calm her breathing.

"This is our chief medical officer; Ratchet," The red and blue robot gestured to the ambulance who nodded down at the teenagers slowly, "And you already know your guardian, Bumblebee."

Smiling widely Sam turned to the robot to see him doing a little jig to some backing music.

"Bumblebee? So that's your name?" she laughed as the robot nodded enthusiastically, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Ratchet answered for him, "His vocal processors were damaged in battle, I haven't been able to repair him yet."

Both girls turned to the yellow robot, their expressions soft; they could both feel sympathy for the yellow robot, they couldn't imagine a day without their voices.

"But… you'll fix him, right?" Sam questioned a little forcefully, looking at the ambulance.

The medical officer nodded, "It is only a matter of time."

Nodding, they stood in silence, each group waiting for the other to act first. Sam couldn't help but feel a little unnerved; all five robots were staring at them intently, as if they were expecting something. Grinding an already battered shoe against the concrete ground Sam cleared her throat.

"So… Why are you here, exactly?" She was answered immediately, as if the large robot was waiting for her cue.

"We are here looking for the All Spark. And we must find it before Megatron and the Decepticons."

"What-a-tron?" Sam questioned while at the same time Mikaela whispered beside her.

"Decepti-who?"

The large robot raised a hand to the side of his head and for a second Sam wondered if he was annoyed but the thought was quickly disposed of when a small _whir_ issued from the red and blue robot as the scenery around them changed, turning into an unfamiliar, metallic world. The ground took on a dark sheen as parts of it cracked and fell away, revealing something that looked suspiciously like lava and all around them large towers and spiked spires rose out of the ground. Sam stumbled back into Mikaela as a spire sprouted close to them.

"Our planet was once a powerful empire, peaceful and just," Optimus Prime began, his voice worn and heavy, "Until we were betrayed by Megatron, leader of the Decepticons. All who defied them were destroyed and finally our war consumed the planet and the All Spark was lost to the stars. Megatron followed it to Earth, where Captain Witwicky found him."

Sam jerked back from the spire she had been tapping absentmindedly, trying to assure herself that it really _was_ a hologram, when she heard the robot's words, not noticing as the hologram disappeared.

"M-my- Captain Witwicky? Are you sure?" That couldn't be right; her family wasn't that adventurous… But hadn't she read in her late ancestor's belongings that he thought he had discovered an 'Iceman'?

Optimus Prime nodded solemnly before continuing, "We know that your ancestor discovered him in what you call the Arctic Circle and from what we are to understand; he accidentally activated Megatron's navigation system; imprinting the co-ordinates of the location of the All Spark on Earth onto Captain Witwicky's glasses."

"His glasses?" Sam sputtered, "How'd you know about his glasses?"

"Bumblebee has been tracking your family for some years now, he is an able scout," Optimus Prime answered, gesturing towards the yellow robot.

Raising a brow Sam held her tongue; the robot had not answered her question and had implied that her car had been… stalking her family for a long time. She couldn't bring herself to object the robot's actions however, not when he'd most assuredly saved her life from the Demon Cop, and especially not after she heard what Ratchet said after Optimus Prime's explanation.

"If the Decepticons find the All Spark, they will use its power to transform Earth's machines; to build a new army."

Sam paled, "They can do that?"

"And the human race will be extinguished," Optimus Prime finished.

Mikaela whimpered next to her as Sam tried hard not to sway on her feet.

* * *

"Okay, I'll go get the glasses. You just stay here and keep them here. Alright?" Sam stated apprehensively as she exited the Camaro and tried to peer around her mother's numerous flower bushes to look at her house.

"Alright, just hurry back," Mikaela urged, pushing her along. It was obvious that the girl had been shook by their meeting with the Autobots.

Nodding understandingly Sam dashed away, trying hard not to think of the various outcomes of the night. It was surreal and exhausting; never before in her life had she ever thought she'd have such a distressing day. From getting chased by sentient cars (one of which turned out to be her friendly guardian and the other not so much) and then engaging in a pseudo-chase with a jittery silver alien to meeting an alien faction from the far reaches of the universe to finding out that she, possibly, most likely, definitely, held the deciding factor of a millions of years old war in her possession: Sam had no doubt that her life could not get any weirder.

Of course, she had never planned on being back late after curfew and meeting her father at the back door.

"Sam, where have you been?" Her father's worried voice called as he rushed towards her.

'_Think fast, think fast, think fast!'_ Sam's inner voice crowed, panic engulfing her mind; she could not waste her time explaining what she had gone through today, it would take too long.

"Been training. All day. Need to go to my room now!" Sam said as she rushed past her father.

"Training? You're late for curfew! Sam, come back we're discussing this now!" Ron Witwicky chastised.

"Dad! Can't! Gotta go!" Sam whined before exclaiming desperately, "Time of the month!"

After that she received no objections as she sprinted through the house, vaguely hearing the door close behind her father, as she made it to her room, slamming and locking the door shut behind her.

"Box, box, box. Gotta find the box!" Sam cast a sweeping glance around her room and wondered when it had gotten so messy.

Grimacing, Sam decided to go for her bed first and she quickly stumbled past the clothes strewn around her floor, barely noticing the giant robots standing outside her window.

'_Wait, what?'_ Sam frowned; that didn't sound right.

Turning back slowly, as if taking her time would somehow make the vision of the robots go away, Sam approached one of her windows and watched, mouth agape, as the Autobots shuffled about her back yard; peering in through windows, poking rose bushes and- she winced as a solid _crunch_ sounded out almost silently from the center of the yard- stepped on her father's decorations.

She tried her hardest not to moan in barely concealed dread.

Optimus Prime had just stepped on her father's precious fountain.

"What are you doing?" She hissed, trying her best to glare at the large metallic beings, "Why aren't you waiting in the street like normal cars?"

"We're sorry, but we must have the glasses," Optimus Prime answered, not even lifting his foot off of the destroyed fountain.

From the ground Mikaela gawped; that robot had some audacity, it must have come with the territory of being a robot larger than most American houses.

"I said I'd just be a few minutes! I would have come straight back! This is-This is _dangerous_! What if someone sees you?" Abandoning her criticism of the robots she turned to the girl on the ground, "I told you to stay! I told you to keep them with you!"

"They seem to be in a little bit of a rush," Mikaela looked up at her helplessly and she decided to forgive the girl for this instance. It wouldn't be fair to blame her; what could a teenage girl do against five alien robots?

Whining again Sam decided that ignoring them would be best and turned back towards her bed, intent on resuming her search, when she heard a small dog's bark.

"Mojo! What is he doing out there?" Scrambling back to the window she resisted the temptation to bang her head on a wall, "Mikaela! Get my dog! Get Mojo!"

Not waiting to see if the girl complied with her request (she hoped that she did) Sam went back to her search once again.

It was a few seconds later when she was twisting around under her bed, feeling blindly for the prized box, when she heard a sound (the steady hiss of hydraulics) that she was quickly getting sick of hearing. Wiggling out from under her bed Sam looked to her window to see Mikaela trying to pull herself in, gripping the window sill tightly with one hand as the other rested on a giant metal hand, having nothing to hold on to. Scowling at the robot's persistence she jumped over the piles of belongings she had created in her search and helped the girl into her room.

"They really want those glasses," Mikaela explained once her feet were planted firmly on the floor, shrugging sympathetically at the Sam's shocked and disgruntled face.

"This- This is like an invasion of privacy!" She called out the window with a glare before turning back to the tall girl, "I can't find it."

The girl, with a worried expression, looked around her room, "How can you find anything in here?"

"You could help you know!" Sam threw Mikaela's previous words back at her, her hands feeling around her shelves for the much coveted glasses.

"Okay, so what do you want me to do?"

"Uh- Just-just give this whole section here a sweep; you can mess it up, just look for a medium sized cardboard box," Sam explained, motioning to the left side of her room as she headed back toward the right.

Sighing in exasperation Sam pushed the objects surrounding her goldfishes' (Bubbles and Tumbles) tank onto the floor, ducking under her desk when the action yielded no results. How could she lose the box? She hadn't taken it out of her room after her project!

"You keep transmission fluid in your room?" Mikaela asked, bewildered.

"Keep searchi-what's that noise?" Sam honestly didn't want to know.

The two girls gravitated towards the window and stood disbelievingly, staring at the cars assembled on the grass outside her window.

"What are you doing? I don't see a truck stop anywhere, if you're going to be robots stay here, if you're going to be cars; get back on the road!" Sam complained rubbing at her eyes as the robots transformed again. She turned away but Mikaela pulled her back.

"Sam, he wants-" she finished her sentence by simply nodding towards the window.

"What? I can't look for the glasses if you're constantly-" she paused, looking down at the robot's blue feet, "Are you standing on my mother's tulips? Do you know how mad she will be if she saw you doing that? Because, it wouldn't matter if you were an alien robot or not; she'd totally key your paint."

* * *

Sam rubbed at her temples; who knew trying to find a little pair of glasses could be so- distracting? It wasn't supposed to be so distracting; regardless of whether one had giant alien robots breathing down their neck!

It had taken a little talking and pleading but she had finally persuaded the Autobots to go back to the street. She had been breathing a sigh of relief when they had, at last, stopped their nosy vigil outside her room window when the house shook around her, knocking anything that remained on her shelves off and onto the messy collage that was her bedroom floor. Alarmed at first she and Mikaela had hurried to the window only to find out that Ratchet had somehow bumped into the power lines; effectively sending the whole block into darkness. Now, the robot's seemed intent on shining lights into her room to help the girls look for the damned glasses.

The situation couldn't have gotten worse two seconds ago, but it had. Because her dad was knocking fervently on her bedroom door, calling her name like there was no tomorrow.

Opening her eyes she gave Optimus Prime an absolutely ferocious glare and he, thankfully, seemed to understand her unspoken words and called for the Autobots to retreat. Inhaling deeply she looked at Mikaela and wondered how she was going to explain the girl to her parents, but she was just glad that it would be easier than explaining how robots had destroyed the yard.

Grabbing hold of Mikaela she pulled her to her bed and sat her down, roughly wrapping a blanket around her, before whispering urgently.

"Start crying!" Unheeding of the incredulous look the girl threw at her she hopped over her possessions and wrenched the door open.

"Hi, Daddy, what's up?" She smiled cheerily, knowing that she'd win this argument as her father's face immediately softened at her affectionate nickname.

"Are you alright? There was an earthquake, the lights went out. You're not hurt are you?"

'_Earthquake…? I can make this work…' _Sam thought slyly.

"Yeah, the earthquake, it was a bad one, wasn't it? Knocked all my stuff clean off their shelves!" She laughed awkwardly, trying to block off as much of her room as possible.

"We saw a light, what was the light?" Ron Witwicky asked as he tried to look behind her, being intercepted each time as she stood on her toes so that she was the same height as her father.

"Light? There was no light," she answered hastily trying to keep her father's eyes level with her own.

"Why are you so filthy?" Judy Witwicky interjected, raising an eyebrow at her daughter.

"Oh, me? I've just- you know, been out training all day: can't let someone else take all my medals! Ahem, yeah, just training and other stuff…" Sam smiled weakly at her parents as they stared at her in silence.

"I want to see where that light came from," Ron said flatly, pushing past his daughter and entering the room, his wife right behind him.

Sam scrunched up her face at the hallway and hoped that Mikaela was as adept at conjuring fake tears as she was.

"Sam, who's this?" Her mother cried with consternation.

Spinning around, and following after her parents, she tried not to release a relieved breath upon seeing the tears that stained Mikaela's cheeks. Smiling at the girl, and giving her a brief thumbs up, she carefully constructed her face until she looked righteously indignant.

"Sam? Who is this and what is she doing in your room?" Her mother repeated, seemingly having calmed down in just a few seconds.

"Mom, Dad, this is Mikaela. She's just… having a really bad day…" she trailed off unsure, milling through her memories until she found something she could use to help her, "She just broke up with her boyfriend; he was a real jerk. And me, being the concerned friend I am went to get her when she called me and I've been… taking care of her all day! You know? Trying to cheer her up?"

"How come we didn't notice?" Her mother asked dubiously.

"Oh, I snuck her in hours ago!" Mikaela nodded empathically.

Her parents looked at the girls warily and, feeling the need to help, Mikaela gave a big sniff. In an instant Judy was next to her; patting her on the back comfortingly as the lights came back on.

"Geeze, Sam, do you keep all your things on the edges of the shelves? It wasn't that big of an earthquake!" Ron said as he averted his eyes from the crying girl and turned to study his daughter's untidy room.

"Oh, that's just because-" Sam paused in her commentary as she spotted a cardboard box near her door, its contents partially spilled atop the rest of her belongings. She'd probably knocked it down in her rush to get her door open.

"Because of what Sam?" Her father looked at her suspiciously.

"Oh, just… higher ground and all that…" she babbled before turning to her mother, "Hey, why don't I take Mikaela down to the kitchen, I'm sure she'd like some water or something…"

She gave her mother a meaningful look and in less than a minute both her parents had been ushered out of her room with minimal fuss. As soon as the door closed behind them she lunged for the glasses' case, she clutched it tightly as she gave it a tentative shake to make sure it still held the spectacles before pushing the case into her empty pocket.

"Come on, let's get something to eat," Sam waved for Mikaela to follow her as she exited her room.

"But, shouldn't we get the glasses to the Autobots first?" Mikaela questioned, glancing out of all the windows they passed.

"Not really," Sam chirped as she skipped blithely down the stairs, "I mean, they gave us enough stress when we were trying to find them… I say they can wait a while. And I don't know about you but I am_ thirsty_ and I am _starving_."

"But-"

"Oh relax; it's not as if we're going to eat a five-course meal," Sam said matter-of-factly as they entered the kitchen, "Just whatever we have in the fridge."

Mikaela looked worriedly out of the window for a few seconds but quickly conceded when Sam waved a box of Krispy Kreme's in front of her along with a chilled bottle of water.

* * *

**End of Chapter Six: Meet the Family**

* * *

**Next Chapter: Chapter Seven: The Men In Black**

**Author's Notes:**

Needless Rant:

You may think I don't like Mikaela and that I'm… bashing her. But I'm not. In my opinion Movie!Mikaela was just the token pretty girl with no real back-story or personality/character development (None of the characters did, actually), what I'm trying to do with my story is develop a genuine character; I'm going to try to make Sam and Mikaela's friendship at least _seem_ believable. Because let's face it: it's pretty clear that my Sam and Mikaela are two _very_ different girls, but they do have things in common; and that's what'll bring them together and glue them there. They're not suddenly going to turn around and be buddy-buddy; Sam pretty much hates Mikaela's friends and the way she acts and with Mikaela's position on the social food chain it's just not acceptable to be seen around Sam unless she's teasing her or something. And no, I will not use my artistic license to make everything fart sunshine and bunnies because it's easier _because that is__ not how real life works_; they're going to have to make certain decisions that will alienate them from the people they're used to being around and that's going to help them grow up and turn from teenagers (which they are right now) into adults who are willing to accept responsibility (sometimes).

Okay, rant done.

And Bumblebee was just using scare tactics; he wouldn't have left either of them.

And yay for Sam inheriting her mother's temper! Movie!Sam was such a pushover he invoked 'Must-Bully-Now' feelings within me.

And yes, yes, I adjusted Jazz's speech pattern slightly. Hey, he's supposed to be the coolest of the Autobots. I had to do it. –Hides from complaints-

I got some lovely feedback for the last chapter: Thank you, thank you, thank you! I will be addressing anything that came up in the next chapter's A/N. This one is long enough. Anyway, as always, thank you to:

SomeReallyRandomPerson, Fk306 Animelover, blood shifter, Sinead Rivka, Elita One, KitsuneyJenfner, flamingmarsh, LoveHopes, Razorgaze, jitkety, morning sun, Narnian Sprite, Blackwing.Rose, jazztransformesme, Niteskye, White Evergreen and RavageStar.

- bot

P.S. I hope you all noticed what happened there when the Autobots met the girls. It made me cackle delightedly as I was writing it, though somewhere inside I _did_ cringe and die, just a little bit.

Okay, I'm going to go to a corner and giggle uncontrollably now. (Yes, I still have Teenage Girl Syndrome, what of it?)


	7. 7 The Men In Black

**Chapter:** Chapter Seven: The Men In Black  
**Chapter Summary:** Just when everything seemed to be going so well…  
**Word Count:** 3,342  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers: The Movie (Either of them) or Transformers: The Animated Series (Any of them). They belong to Hasbro and what have you. I also don't own any franchises or songs or movie references you may notice. I just own an over-active imagination.  
**Rating:** (T) - (PG-13)  
**Warnings:** Bad Humor, Gender-bending, Chapter contains an arrogant (yet strangely lovable) jerk-off. SPOILERS!  
**Author's Note:** This is an Interlude… I guess…? It spun out of control…

* * *

**Chapter Seven: The Men In Black**

Sam gave a small yawn as she collapsed into a kitchen chair, smiling benignly at the empty doughnut box; it had served its purpose well, even if she did feel very drowsy now. It had been worth it, a small voice in the back of her head insisted, though feeling drowsy at a time like this wasn't a very good thing. She'd already slept for a few hours on the way to that dingy alley and even on the way back to her house, even with her head so full of new, unbelievable information. She guessed that if she fell asleep one more time she wouldn't be able to wake for several long hours; desperately needing to regain all the energy she had lost during the day. It seemed that she had been running purely on adrenaline for most of the day.

"We should go now, before they… rip the roof off or something to try and find us…" Sam looked up at the apprehensive voice.

Mikaela had finally returned from the bathroom; her face clean and make-up reapplied with her silky hair pulled back in a neat ponytail atop her head and purse slung over one shoulder, Sam, herself, had already thoroughly washed her face; taking care to apply a light lotion to the pale bruise that had formed on the right side of her face.

"Mm… Can we sit for just a little bit more…?" Her limbs were heavy and Sam didn't think she'd be very coordinated if she were to stand up at that moment, if she could even manage that.

Sam didn't know why they had to rush so much, especially when she was so tired. In all actuality, Sam didn't quite understand the significance of this 'All Spark'. While the big robot, Optimus Prime, had given them a brief history lesson and had answered the girls' questions very easily ("What does the All Spark do, exactly?" "So, do all the Autobots turn into cars?" "What does the All Spark look like?" "What about the Decepticons, do they all turn into cop cars?"), Sam couldn't honestly say that she understood the logics behind their war… It was just a cube, right? Optimus Prime had said that it held great power and that it was what gave life to their planet… but how? How could all that come from a cube? How could something as large and impressive as Optimus Prime come from something as obtuse as a cube?

Sam had quickly come to accept that trying to put the power of the All Spark into human terms was impossible; the GMC, Ironhide, had even pointed this out rather rudely, stating in no uncertain terms that humans, as a race, were altogether too mundane and had created too many preconceived notions of _everything_ and, therefore, Jazz continued (in his much more svelte accent), could never truly understand the Cybertronians who were, as their name suggested, autonomous. But even so, she couldn't help but find it a little ridiculous, though Sam felt she could be excused on the fact that she _was_ a human; an individual from an, apparently, mundane race.

"I just want to get this over with," Mikaela admitted, shooting the sleepy girl a pleading look.

Heaving a great sigh, Sam conceded, "Fair point; let's go."

Standing, Sam stretched languidly before tapping the glasses' case in her pocket reassuringly as she and Mikaela slowly and quietly trekked to the back door.

"Hey, what do you think will happen when the Autobots get the glasses? And when they find this 'All Spark'?" Mikaela wondered softly, turning back to look at the shorter girl.

A small frown appeared on Sam's face; she hadn't thought of that, she'd had no reason to. She had simply assumed… Sam's frown deepened. She hadn't assumed, she hadn't thought about the aftermath at all, not really, and anything she had guessed would happen… held no value… One never knew what an alien robot was going to do next, after all, never mind a whole team of them.

"I don't know…" she answered truthfully, tilting her at dark haired girl, "Why, what do you think will happen?"

The other girl frowned as she had, "That's why I asked you; I don't kno- Is that your mom?"

Turning back towards the living room Sam lifted a brow. Her mother was being rather loud… about something.

"Should we check it out?" Mikaela questioned, looking to the short girl only to find that she'd already taken off towards her mother's voice.

* * *

'_So many suits,'_ Sam mused. She had never seen so many men in suits in one place at once.

It was quite weird.

"Mom? Dad? What's going on?" Neither of her parents had time to respond.

"Hello, young lady, is your name Samantha?" One of the suits asked, starting towards her with, what she guessed to be, a disarming smile, though it did a better job of thoroughly creeping her out.

"Sam," she corrected automatically as she ignored the man in favor of her parents, "What's going on?"

Again, her parents had no chance to answer.

"Good, you're going to have to come with us," the man stated, still smiling.

The words caused an instant reaction. A fine eyebrow arched as she backpedaled into Mikaela, looking at each of the men in suits with wary eyes.

"Not happening!" Her father all but shouted, stepping in front of the two girls beside his wife, "You can't do that."

"Sir, I am asking you, politely," the suited man said, his voice condescending and his smile quickly slipping, "Step away."

And so commenced the relay of an argument between the suited man and Ronald Witwicky.

* * *

Mikaela had thought that the day could not get any weirder or terrifying or down right nerve-wracking but it was quickly getting worse. First they had received an informal introduction to soldiers from an alien planet and then been told that their war was already continuing on Earth and now the house of the girl who, very literally, had the item of ultimate salvation in her pocket was infested by men who looked worryingly like government agents or, at least, how government agents looked like in the movies.

What they could be doing at Sam's house was something Mikaela didn't want to think about.

"What should we do?" Mikaela breathed, almost silently into Sam's hair, careful not to move her lips too much as she kept a watchful eye over the suited men.

In response Sam inched a foot backwards and tapped her heel against Mikaela's toes as she leaned back minutely. Understanding instantly, the tall girl slowly slid her feet backwards, making an attempt to retreat back into the kitchen, her eyes still trained on the agents. Seeing the agent that had been arguing with Sam's father turn towards another she took her chance and grabbed Sam by the upper arms and pulled her back, freezing in the doorway as the agent turned back to them like a twisted game of red light, green light.

The man looked at them, perplexed, as if he didn't quite understand what his co-worker had told him before he seemed to notice the change.

"Where you standing there before?" Sam answered the question without hesitation.

"Yes."

The man gave them a critical look before accepting something from his partner.

"Young lady?" The man looked at Sam.

"Yes?" Sam answered blankly, only a hint of questioning in her tone.

"Step forward please," the man said as he approached.

Sam narrowed her eyes lightly at the man but otherwise didn't move as he held some sort of contraption in front of the short girl which instantly started ticking.

"What's with the ticker?" The girl asked, her tone darkening as her eyes narrowed even further while the small device in the man's hand continued ticking frantically.

"Fourteen rads! Tag 'em and bag 'em!"

* * *

Sam did not want to know how they had gotten into this situation. She was sure that if she did know, she'd hurt something. Though, it wouldn't have mattered either way, since her hands were handcuffed behind her back.

She glared hotly at the man that had invaded her home and arrested her parents and guest for reasons he had not deigned to specify. He was busy asking questions and she vaguely recalled seeing him hold up a picture of her car, one that had been taken just after it had gotten repainted. Sam simply continued to stare at the self-important man.

He could ask as many questions as he liked; she wouldn't be answering them.

She had questions of her own, questions that, in her opinion, needed to be answered more urgently than the ones the man was asking her. At the moment she was feeling beyond annoyed, angry and, to some extent, betrayed. She'd tried, despairingly tried, to piece together what the man was saying, but he wasn't making any sense. He wasn't explaining anything. When she'd resolved to just listen to the man in a desperate attempt to maybe figure out why she had been, in effect, kidnapped, another, more sensitive, subject had crept into the corners of her mind, and with it, a slight emotion that she could only guess was anger caused by betrayal.

The Autobots. Where had they gone? Why had they just disappeared?

She remembered how she hadn't felt too upset at being carted out of her own home because her _friends_, the Autobots, were waiting just outside. Of course they would do something, _anything_, she had thought, they weren't going to let the clue to the All Spark, if nothing else, get taken away. Of course not.

It was blatantly obviously that the Autobots weren't waiting outside her house, in the street, as she had asked them to when she had been escorted out of her house. No, there hadn't been the slightest clue that such flashy cars had even driven past the sleepy suburbs.

It had annoyed her, questions attacking her mind, as she was reluctantly led to a large SUV, one of many that had been parked outside her house in a checkerboard formation. She couldn't understand why they would just disappear. They'd made it abundantly clear that they would not leave without the glasses. And yet, here she was; sitting in a government vehicle with the glasses in her pocket and the Autobots no where in sight.

It was confusing and annoying. Especially when that irritating man would not leave her alone.

"Now, let's stop being moody ladies," the man stared at each of the girls with equal aggravation, "You just tell me what you know, and I'll make this whole thing a lot easier on both of you."

It seemed that while Sam had been brooding internally, Mikaela too had kept a strong, silent front.

"Anything?" The man tried.

The girls stayed mum.

"Alright, you want to be that way? Fine. But let me put things into perspective for you. If I don't get the information I need, I can be your judge, your jury and if need be, your executioner," The man threatened and Sam's glare intensified and Mikaela snorted contemptuously.

A look of pure fury flashed across the man's face before it was quickly replaced by one of smug superiority as he took a badge out of his coat and waved it in front of the girls.

"You see this? This is a I-can-do-what-I-want-and-get-away-with-it badge. Do not mess with me, ladies."

"Oh, stop." Mikaela snapped, "Don't listen to him, Sam, he's just pissy 'cuz he's got to go back to guarding the mall."

Sam made no indication that she had heard anything and continued trying to burn a whole through the man's head.

"You, jailbait, do not test me," The man retorted shortly, "Especially with your daddy's parole coming up."

Sam arched a brow and turned to the girl beside her, the expression on her face voicing everything that she didn't.

Mikaela was silent again.

"What? Don't want your little friend to know? Yeah, I bet she wouldn't give you a ride in that souped up car of hers if she knew about all the charges of grand theft auto in your family," the man laughed.

Sam couldn't help herself, she had to comment.

"_Grand theft auto_? Dude, are you sure you haven't got her confused with someone else? I mean, grand theft auto, of all things, and Mikaela Banes just don't go together. Ever. I doubt the girl even knows how to pop the hood of a car!" Sam snorted gleefully, laughter shining in her eyes as a mocking sneer danced on her lips.

Mikaela ducked her head and Sam's face slowly became slack.

"You don't believe it?" The man laughed again, "She's got her own juvie record to prove it! She's a criminal. Criminals are hot."

Both the girls looked up at the man with matching, disgusted faces as he continued prattling off about different ways to incarcerate Mikaela's father.

Looking away from the man with a frozen, disturbed grimace Sam's eyes fell on the device he'd used to determine whether or not she was to be taken in for whatever reason. Fixing it with a death glare Sam hoped it would catch fire.

Startlingly enough, at that moment, the device resumed its ticking.

Looking up from the device and between the annoying agent and the driver Sam spotted a large metallic hand. Eyes widening, and stamping down a rush of relief, Sam immediately braced her feet against the back of the driver's seat.

Just in time too, it seemed, because not even a second later there was a resonating crash as the aforementioned hand collided with the SUV that was then lifted into the air as if it was a toy.

"Oh God, oh God. I thought we were done with this!" Mikaela shrieked as the car tilted drastically.

Sandwiched between the driver's seat and her own rather comfortably Sam felt very little of the movement and loss of momentum that the others were protesting about. It also helped that, from her position, she could not see out of her window; which was a good thing as it was currently occupied by two large fingers.

While everyone screamed around her, Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

It was a dualistic kind of relief. She was glad that she couldn't feel the same imbalance that the others were feeling but she was also relieved because it seemed that the Autobots hadn't deserted them after all. The, rather unpleasant, confirmation of that fact made a small smile appear on her face.

Until she felt the roof of the SUV give up and disconnect from the main body of the car. Realization dawning upon her face, and quickly deciding that she'd rather not hurt her back, Sam quickly used her feet as leverage to push herself into a sitting position just as the car's tires made contact with the tarmac below them.

"Taking the children, was a bad move."

Sam couldn't help but smile at the familiar voice, though it was bittersweet as at the same time a dozen black suited agents raised their guns.

"Autobots! Relieve them of their weapons."

Smiling wholeheartedly now, Sam had never thought that there would come a time where she would be glad to see the twin cannons on Ironhide's arms light up.

* * *

"Are you not surprised to see us?"

This was amazing.

Mikaela stared at the assembled robots, each looking much more menacing as they glared with bright blue 'eyes' at the government agents. She hadn't thought she'd see them again, but here they were, in all their, now, surprisingly menacing glory. It didn't suit them, but Mikaela was glad for it.

The stupid imbeciles that called themselves government agents deserved it. Especially the mouthy one.

"There are… Sector Seven protocols, okay?" The bastard that had let her secret slip so easily stumbled over his words and Mikaela found herself smiling contentedly, "I'm not authorized to communicate with you, except to tell you that I… can't communicate with you."

"Get out of the car," Optimus Prime's shining blue 'eyes' narrowed and Mikaela stared, transfixed, at the sparkling, curved pieces of glass that covered each of the round, swirling objects that seemed to contract and expand like irises.

Mikaela followed Sam out of the destroyed vehicle and reached for the girl's handcuffs, undoing them as easily as she had done her own. She looked up to see the girl giving her a measuring look.

"Just- not now, alright?"

The girl shrugged with a nonchalant "Whatever," and quickly scampered around the car to confront the agent that had all but harassed them, Mikaela followed hot on her heels.

"What is Sector Seven?" The girl's voice was much calmer than she felt, that much was obvious from one look at her face, "Answer me."

"How'd you know about the aliens?" Mikaela added, standing strong beside the athletic girl.

"Right, and where'd you take my parents?" Again, the girl's voice was surprisingly calm.

"I am not at liberty to discuss that." Sam just sighed at the man's answer.

"Alright, that's fine," She said vacantly, reaching into the man's coat to retrieve his precious badge, "What was it? Do-what-I-want-and-get-away-with-it badge?"

Examining the badge Sam held it up to Mikaela so that she could read the name printed under a picture of the annoying man.

'_Reginald Simmons,'_ Mikaela noted, storing the information away for another time.

"Hey, you touch me, that's a federal offense," Simmons said, though not with as much force as he would have, Mikaela thought that his mellow tone was probably because of the giant robots standing around them.

"Yeah? Well, I don't remember being read my rights," Sam said offhandedly with a slight, biting undertone as she slipped the badge into a pocket opposite the one holding the glasses, "Where is Sector Seven?"

"Classified," Simmons said automatically as he looked at each of the aliens in turn.

Sam sighed heavily.

"Alright, let's just get out of here," Motioning to Mikaela, the girl reached into Simmons pocket again, this time pulling out a pair of handcuffs.

"Strap 'em and leave 'em," Sam announced cheerfully, waving the silver contraption.

* * *

"Alright, tough guy, take it off." Sam heard Mikaela say from behind her.

Turning away from the agent she was handcuffing she looked at the girl. She was a strange one. Sam had never thought that Mikaela Banes would have a juvenile record. No, technically that was a lie; she and Miles had once spent a free lesson speculating about such things. No, she'd never thought Mikaela Banes would have a juvenile record because of a grand theft auto.

It was ridiculous; Sam had meant what she had said, she didn't think the girl would be able to start a real car.

"What?" Simmons asked, "What are you talking about?"

Sam was inclined to agree, what was the girl planning?

"Your clothes. All of it. Off." Was the man's short answer and Sam nodded knowingly, eyeing the convenient pole behind him.

"You are one vindictive bitch," Sam commented lightly as she stepped back to admire her handiwork.

"What for?" Simmons squawked uselessly.

"For threatening my dad," The girl answered, her face set stonily.

"This, little lady, is the beginning of the end of your life," Simmons squawked again as he started stripping off his suit.

Mikaela nodded patronizingly, "I'm sure."

"You're a criminal. It's in your gene pool. You're going to be in the same place as your father; like a family exchange program."

"Get behind the pole!" The tall girl barked; Simmons was not making the situation any easier on himself.

"This is such a felony, what you're doing," another agent, Sam recognized him as the driver of their SUV, said to her.

Sam simply raised an uncaring eyebrow at the man as Mikaela finished roughly binding the men to each other,

"Yeah…? Well, I hear criminals are hot this season…"

"Hm," Mikaela stifled a laugh before turning to the Autobots, "We can go now, right?"

* * *

**End of Chapter Seven: The Men In Black **

* * *

**Next Chapter: Black Out**

**Author's Notes:**

Rads – A unit for measuring absorbed radiation. It's an unusual word to use but w/e.

I have reached a bad pun. Chapter Seven equals the introduction of Sector Seven. Go me. And no, don't get confused, we won't be seeing the Decepti-chopper in Chapter 8.

Anyway… I've set the stage now. The real fun will now commence.

Stuff that I didn't put in the last A/N:

**Sam's Appearance:**  
I never made it clear but I've always had a clear image of what Sam would look like. I've always imagined her to look like a mix of** Winona Ryder** and **Alyssa Milano** _**when they had short hair**_. I'd imagine Ryder's hairstyle (the messy short one that's like a boy cut) and her eyes, nose and lips and her overall facial structure, but Milano's eyebrows and skin color and both their impish looks. Not their boobs, please. They're too big.

The reason I picked **Winona Ryder** (of all people) is because she's _naturally_ pretty and wouldn't need to slather on the make-up to look decent and because in her pictures she has this _wide-eyed cute thing_ going on. She looks _totally innocent_ but **we all freakin' know she isn't** and _**that is Sam**_.

Also, in case I haven't really made it clear: Sam is small. Tiny. 5,4". Skinny. Always has been, always will be (in this story). She's smaller than the average and that's going to play a part in my story. You know, the cliché: little girl, big attitude.

Okay, everyone got that? Everyone disappointed in my interpretation? Alright; just make sure you have the basics:

**Sam: Girl with a big, bad attitude in the body of an innocent looking little imp.**

And that is it.

Thank you to:

Niteskye (Ah, the pleasure of inconsistencies), blood shifter, KitsuneyJenfner (Tailor made excuse, or what?), jazztranformsme (I have my own plans** -evil cackle-**), Elita One (Hell yes), flamingmarsh (a very high five to you my good lady), LoveHopes, PsychoWing (OMG the soldier boys!), Narnian Sprite, morning sun (I do love the Hatchet).

-bot


	8. 8 Black Out

**Chapter:** Chapter Eight: Black Out  
**Chapter Summary:** I'd rather dream and hope than face reality.  
**Word Count:** 2, 005  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers: The Movie (Either of them) or Transformers: The Animated Series (Any of them). They belong to Hasbro and what have you. I also don't own any franchises or songs or movie references you may notice. I just own an over-active imagination.  
**Rating:** (T) - (PG-13)  
**Warnings:** Bad Humor, Gender-bending, SPOILERS!  
**Author's Note:** I've had the vague urge to sing 'I Will Survive' all week.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Black Out**

It was amazing how quickly a situation could turn around, do a three-sixty so to speak, and change for the better. It wasn't something Sam had experienced before, but how many times in their life could someone say that they had been arrested by agents from a secret government organization and then subsequently rescued by giant alien robots? While it was a thrill, Sam wouldn't wish the situation on anyone, if she was honest with herself; she reckoned that she had lost a few years of her life just knowing that her great-great-grandfather had discovered, to put it in simple terms, an evil overlord.

It was surreal, and quite unnatural, but she realized, as she looked at the giant beings that would look at her so imploringly, as if she was the most captivating thing they had ever seen, she would not trade the feeling for anything else in the world at that moment. She guessed that, in the short time that she had known them, she had grown accustomed to the robots; they fit into her, now rather hectic, life seamlessly. And she unmistakably knew that there really was nothing anyone could do to make them go away, not anymore. She wouldn't let them.

It was strange, how she could feel attached to… beings that weren't human in such a short time… But maybe that was why she was so keen on them. They weren't human, and they didn't think like humans and they certainly didn't act like humans, as much as they seemed to be trying to. And Sam liked that; they didn't care for all the little idiosyncrasies of the human lifestyle, they had much bigger problems of their own, after all, and so you could count on them to help you, in their own strange way.

She trusted them. She knew that she trusted them now, and she knew that she would carry on trusting them for as long as she lived. It was in the aura around them; she could tell that she'd be able to implicitly trust Optimus Prime, no matter what, and she knew that she'd always trust Bumblebee with her life, and that for all his joking Jazz would take care of her and that she could seek out Ratchet for solutions and that Ironhide would not give up on anything she could possibly ask of him. It was another strange quality of the Autobots but they seemed to project their personalities so loudly, so clearly, that she couldn't even think about doubting her intuition.

And it was because of this trust, this unbreakable _bond_ that she had formed with the alien species, that, when she heard the sweeping rotors of helicopters and the soft hum of several speeding cars, she looked to Optimus Prime. It was because of this trust that she had not hesitated when the Autobot had swooped down upon them and held out a hand, asking her and Mikaela to climb on.

Gripping one of the large smoke stacks that rested against Optimus Prime's shoulders she hoped that everything would turn out all right. Inwardly, she cursed herself as she knew that she had inevitably jinxed their predicament. It was just her luck that as soon as they were free of one set of government agents, another, more prepared group, confronted them.

Sam squinted against the wind that slapped at her face and turned, as best she could, to Mikaela. While she knew that she felt some sort of soothing emotion for the Autobots, she wasn't sure about the girl. She didn't know what to think about her. Allegedly, she had a juvenile record for grand theft auto with her father, but the girl also seemed to trust the Autobots just as strongly as she did, and seemed just as willing to help them. Sam felt something towards the girl, whether it was a bizarre sense of companionship or friendship from being tangled up in the same mess or something else entirely, Sam didn't know. The girl was baffling in everything she did, what she'd seen of Mikaela Banes that day was not what she saw during school hours; the self-absorbed, pretty girlfriend of the biggest jerk in the history of High School Football seemed to have been replaced by an even tempered girl that was actually aware that sometimes you did have to sacrifice something precious to you and that sometimes you would have to rearrange your priorities to get the best result.

She was just as strange as her new alien friends, if not stranger.

The girl seemed to feel her gaze and turned her head towards Sam, staring at her blankly for a few seconds, before she silently held out her hand. It was a foreign response but Sam stretched out her own in answer and gripped the girl's cool hand. It was probably comfort, what she felt, the feeling that, no matter what happened, she wouldn't have to go through it alone.

It didn't seem fair, in Sam's opinion, that she was bombarded with these new situations and feelings all at once; it gave her no time to properly think about anything. Everything she did or said right now, she knew that she would have trouble remembering later. And with the way things were going, it would be enough to give her a headache for months to come.

"Hang on, you two," Sam tensed as the robot she sat atop ducked down under a bridge, taking a few short steps towards a concrete support beam, bracing his large hands against them before lifting himself up.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" Sam whispered, squeezing Mikaela's hand tightly as she leaned back slightly, her grip on the smoke stacks on Optimus Prime's shoulders tightening.

"Shhh,"

Frowning, she cast a harried look to Mikaela and found that the girl had a similar expression upon her face, though panic seemed to be seeping in rapidly, as she struggled to maintain a still seat. Sam steadied her hand in hopes of helping the girl; unlike Sam she only had the robot's helmet, which didn't have anything that provided a useful grip, to hang on to.

"Sam, I'm slipping!" Mikaela squeaked suddenly, her eyes wide and fixed on the concrete below them.

Grimacing, Sam felt helpless; there wasn't anything she could do. One wrong move and they'd _both_ be hurtling towards the ground. Sam had never had a problem with heights, but now an all too familiar breathlessness was creeping upon her and Mikaela seemed to be whimpering for both of them.

Glancing at the painted metal plates and silvery gears beneath her Sam considered her options, none of them were very good but one of them had to do. Giving Mikaela's hand a light squeeze, Sam called out to the distressed girl.

"Come over here," shifting her feet backwards and closer the smoke stack next to her, "Jump and I'll pull you over."

"I-I can't," Mikaela's eyes were still fixed on the ground, her free hand scratching at Optimus Prime's helmet in an attempt to keep her balance.

"No, you can; just jump, I'll do the rest," Sam said to reassure herself more than the other girl who had finally looked up to look her in the face, "Alright, you ready?"

The girl nodded jerkily and squeezed Sam's hand painfully.

"Okay… Jump!"

Like a bird learning to fly Mikaela wobbled frightfully in midair for a fraction of a second before she almost crashed into Sam. Wrapping her arm tightly around the smoke stack beside her Sam tugged her left arm back, struggling to pull the other girl closer as she trembled dangerously on the edge of Optimus Prime's shoulder.

Mikaela had almost succeeded in establishing a safe perch on the giant robot when a helicopter hovered under them, blowing up a powerful wind that caused Mikaela to lose her precarious footing.

Eyes widening, Sam gripped the girl's hand as hard as she could and instinctively leaned back as far as she could without losing her own seat.

"Sam! Don't let go!" The dangling girl cried, gripping the skinnier girl's hand and wrist with both hands.

"Shit," Sam cursed as she felt her running shoes slip slightly against the metal plating of the robot's shoulder, she should have anticipated this; with as much running as she had done it was a wonder her shoes had any treads left to keep her on the robot for so long.

"Don't worry," Optimus Prime whispered in a would-be comforting manner, making a futile effort to somehow rearrange the position of his shoulder without giving them all away.

"No, stop doing that!" Sam bit out, clenching her jaw as her wrist started throbbing from the strain of keeping a grown, struggling, human suspended in midair, "Mikaela, stop kicking!"

Sam momentarily contemplated readjusting her footing but quickly changed her mind; lodging her feet between the gears and cogs of a robot's shoulder was not a good idea, and she knew that if she made any attempt to move her feet again she'd most likely be pulled down with Mikaela. Their predicament just seemed to go from bad to worse to horrendous.

Wincing as a bolt of pain shot up her left arm and a dull heat started to spread around her wrist Sam knew what she would, ultimately, be forced to do; if only for the sake of keeping her arm.

"Mikaela, I can't…" She didn't want to finish her sentence.

"No! Sam, no!"

Taking a deep breath Sam let go of the smoke stack.

It felt like she was running again. The wind whipping about her, blocking her ears and making her eyes water, she almost missed the large metal foot that rushed towards them, trying to save them.

Pain exploded around her midsection for a wild moment before everything was a blissful black. No sight, no sound, no pain; just black. It felt so good before reality bloomed around her again.

Squeezing her eyes shut she was only mildly aware that she was no longer falling and that she was spinning in a disorienting pattern; being held loosely in something warm and hard in an impossibly uncomfortable position.

Helicopter rotors blared around her as she was deposited onto the ground once the spinning stopped. Stumbling once her feet touched the ground without any support she noted that it was Bumblebee that had been holding her and that it was Bumblebee that seemed to be shielding Mikaela and herself from the helicopters. Suddenly, she was glaringly aware of the cold wind wrapping around her. What was happening?

Coughing and heaving she pulled in as much oxygen as she could, her mind clearing sluggishly but fast enough to notice a cord that had attached itself to one of Bumblebee's wrists; pulling him awkwardly towards one of the black, daunting helicopters.

"What's happening?" She breathed in disbelief.

Moving towards the yellow robot she shouted pointlessly at the helicopters, backpedaling a few times as the aircrafts played a twisted game of tug-of-war with the sentient robot. Drawing closer to Bumblebee she snatched at the yellow plating that covered him, maneuvering herself around them until she was wedged between his head and his painfully positioned arm.

"Why aren't you doing anything?" She shouted over the rotors frantically. She couldn't understand why the robot was simply taking the subjugation; why wasn't he trying to stop them?

The robot whined pathetically and struggled, too late it seemed, as he was slowly being pinned.

Sam resisted the urge to cry. Why did everything have to go so wrong so quickly? Worry dug at her heart as numerous SUVs started surrounding them, their tinted windows glinting darkly, forebodingly, in the search lights of the helicopters. Clutching desperately at the cheerfully yellow plating of Bumblebee's shoulder Sam whimpered in much the same way Mikaela had done not minutes before.

What was going to happen now? And where were the other Autobots? Where had they gone again?

Plagued with so many questions, Sam never noticed her surprisingly light pockets.

* * *

**End of Chapter Eight: Black Out **

* * *

** Next Chapter: Chapter Nine: Rewind, Repeat**

**Author's Notes:**

Woo! I live! … This is a little later than intended but it couldn't be helped… And I don't have much to say…

OH! And if you want info on the story and etc. etc. then go to my profile… I went a bit overboard but… yeah… Everything's there…

And I laugh every time I write 'Smoke Stacks'.

Thank you to:

blood shifter (Bwahahahahaha. I'm sorry), jazztransformsme, Elita One, flamingmarsh, LoveHopes, SomeReallyRandomPerson (For more info, go to my profile), PsychoWing (HA! I've practically changed that scene completely), Fk306 animelover, Razorgaze, KitsuneyJenfner, Niteskye, morning sun (I am a very big advocate of Girl Power™), ArmoredSoul (My Gosh, thanks for all the reviews!)

-bot


	9. 9 Rewind, Repeat

**Chapter:** Chapter Nine: Rewind, Repeat  
**Chapter Summary:** The hardest thing to do is to let go.  
**Word Count:** 3, 072  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers: The Movie (Either of them) or Transformers: The Animated Series (Any of them). They belong to Hasbro and what have you. I also don't own any franchises or songs or movie references you may notice. I just own an over-active imagination.  
**Rating:** (T) - (PG-13)  
**Warnings:** Bad Humor, Gender-bending, some violence, SPOILERS!  
**Author's Note:** I am _so_ sorry. This chapter just _killed_ me.

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Rewind, Repeat**

Her fingertips throbbed; heated and tingling atop warm metal, her cuticles blanched against the pressure of her nails pressing back into her flesh. Her grip on the yellow plates that covered her guardian's body was unfaltering; she couldn't let go, she didn't know what would happen if she did. They were surrounded and she couldn't see Mikaela anywhere, though she could recall hearing her far-away voice over the eternally spinning rotors of the helicopters not too long ago.

She was at a loss of what to do. Could she do anything at all, or was she simply fooling herself? The situation seemed hopeless; they were outnumbered and outgunned.

'_And completely abandoned,'_ Sam thought bitterly.

The Autobots had disappeared again. From her position she could see the bridge Optimus Prime had hidden under. He wasn't there anymore. There wasn't a hint of them anywhere and Sam's pessimistic side enjoyed wallowing in despair at the revelation. She didn't understand why the robots kept on doing this. She was convinced that they wouldn't leave them behind; she was convinced that she could trust them. Now, she was stuck wondering if her sense of judgment was severely impaired.

She frowned and studied the agents as they closed in. They were all eerily indistinguishable from one another, completely uniform; dressed head-to-toe in black, the style mocking that of the army, like the ones she had seen in the news reports from Iraq. Only, as she looked at them, she felt no particular emotion except fear. The thing that scared her the most about these agents was that though they all had some sort of weird weapon in their hands they had yet to use it, preferring to edge towards her; probably trying to pull her away before they attacked her guardian.

Thankfully, none of them got too close. Though bound, Bumblebee hadn't lost all of his mobility and had remained steadfast in his deterrence of the agents and for this she was glad; maybe, just maybe, if they stalled long enough, the Autobots would come back, as they did before.

"Miss, we're going to have to ask you to step away from the robot before we are forced to take action!" A voice shouted from the mass of black that surrounded them.

"Why?" Her reply was instantaneous and petulant, "He's not hurting anyone. Why don't you let him go?"

She received no answer, at least, not one she could understand. The agents surrounding them began to communicate in a series of quick hand signals and before she knew it white mist had all but engulfed them.

Shuddering at the sudden chill Sam winced as a hollow electronic moan reverberated through her body. Bumblebee's body gave a violent twitch and she struggled to stay on her feet, looking worriedly at the robot through the thickening mist. What she saw next sent an earth shattering shock through her system.

Her guardian's face was twisted in either pain or panic, or both, as he twitched minutely every other second. Sam suddenly felt numb as she realized what the cold mist was doing to her guardian. They were hurting him. It seemed impossible to her but it was obvious, she couldn't possibly deny it when Bumblebee was writhing next to her as he was. She couldn't understand why she'd never thought that the robots could feel pain. Had they not shown that they had emotions, morals, principles? Why had she thought them incapable of feeling pain?

Had Bumblebee been hurt when he was fighting that Decepticon? Or when he'd jumped to her and Mikaela's rescue not minutes before? Had he endured all that to protect her? A sick sense of understanding knotted in Sam's gut and she suddenly felt like a horrible person.

Staring out into the clouds of white mist, occasionally spotting the phantom shape of a Sector Seven agent, Sam's steely resolve shaped itself. Slowly easing her fingers off the yellow metal covering her guardian Sam gave a whisper of reassurance before taking off towards an agent and the coldest part of the mist.

"I'll be back."

Taking long, measured steps forward, her hand stretched out in front of her, Sam narrowed her eyes against the cold, her breaths coming and going in shuddering gasps. It had been cold while she was standing against her guardian, a cold like that of walking out into a winter morning wearing summer clothing, but this cold; it was biting. It snapped at her sweaty skin until it burned and spread an icy numbness up her arm; it felt like torture. Flexing her fingers against the settling numbness Sam grabbed blindly, her hand quickly clasping onto a freezing barrel as the cold reached its apex.

She wasted no time in pulling the metal free and swinging as she would when she played tennis with her mother, letting go of her makeshift 'racket' as soon as she heard a satisfying _clang_. Her happiness at her small victory quickly dissipated however as the mist disappeared almost immediately with the weapon she had swung giving the agents a chance to grab at her.

Retreating back towards her guardian in a hurry Sam reached out and clasped onto the yellow metal again. She worriedly noted that the metal that made up his helmet was almost as cold as the air that surrounded them. Unprecedented gloom gripped at her but she quickly shook it off and she rushed back towards the cold; she couldn't give up on what she'd started, not so easily.

She couldn't fail her guardian; she couldn't be a coward, not when he'd been so brave. It wouldn't be fair to Bumblebee; it wouldn't be fair to let him down. So Sam carried on reaching towards the cold, no matter how much her arms ached and relieved two more agents of their freezing weapons. However, it seemed that her luck ran out at that point because as soon as she tried to run back to Bumblebee she was knocked off her feet by a sudden weight behind her.

White lights popped in front of her eyes and for a second everything was numb again and when color and sound rejoined her world she was being held against the ground, arms twisted behind her back with her face scrubbing relentlessly against the rough concrete beneath her. This time, however, her awakening wasn't disorienting at all; she was aware of everything with frightening clarity. The dull, chilly heat that was spreading up her arms, the weight on her back, the pain in her head, the slow, quieting moans of her guardian; all of it blitzed upon her senses and her mind was a blur of incomprehensive thoughts, words, sounds and images.

Wriggling harshly Sam tried to twist out of the agent's grip again but her back twinged in protest against the man's knee and she lay limp, inhaling heavily, the cold air stinging her lungs. Squeezing her eyes shut she thought of everything she would lose if she gave up and did her best to roll over despite the sharp pain dancing across her limbs. She managed to unseat the agent on top of her but her efforts were in vain as another agent quickly replaced the fallen one; crushing her against the rough, cutting ground again. Gritting her teeth as her ribs groaned in agony she looked towards the yellow robot struggling weakly a few feet away.

Disappointment in herself flooded through her veins.

Her best hadn't been enough to help Bumblebee; by all accounts, she hadn't achieved anything except add a few bruises to her growing collection. Her effort had been useless. Yet, she didn't stop struggling as she was lifted to her feet; she pulled at her captor, calling out to the yellow robot and trying desperately to escape the agent.

"Bumblebee! Do-don't worry! I'll think of something!" Hope burst within her as her captor's grip slipped slightly and she pushed herself further, dismissing the pain that ignited in her joints as she did so, "I won't let them-Urngh!"

Her words were cut off suddenly with a groan, pain spreading more flashing lights across her vision, as her joints screamed for a release from the pain as several other agents reprimanded her. Squeezing unbearably at her arms, pulling at her shoulders, they twisted her around and all but carried her towards the Sector Seven SUVs. She never stopped struggling; twisting and turning in their brutal grip, she tried to comfort her guardian any way she could until one of them finally took hold of the back of her head and turned her away.

On their way to the SUVs she was led past Agent Simmons, the man was standing tall and proud, a stone cold look upon his face. Their eyes only met for a second before he looked away but she glared at the man with all her might in that moment; hoping, wishing that the man never existed, her anger broiled and took shape in the various ways the man could die right before her eyes before she started caring.

He said nothing as she passed. No snide smirk, no scathing remark. He didn't need to say anything, didn't even need to look at her.

She had never hated a living being more than she did him.

* * *

Mikaela was beside herself with worry. She had made the mistake of distancing herself from her companions and was now stuck in a securely locked SUV with two armed chaperones, the windshield providing her with a distressing view of Sam and Bumblebee.

Everything had gone so wrong so fast that Mikaela wasn't sure exactly where the situation had started going downhill. Maybe it had been when she had lost her grip on Optimus Prime's helmet or maybe it was because they had stupidly decided to taunt the Sector Seven agents for a little while, allowing their back-up to arrive. Either way, it seemed that the blame lay with her and Sam; they'd both made stupid mistakes, wasted time, and probably, hadn't tried hard enough, and now they were feeling the repercussions.

It didn't feel very nice to take responsibility.

She was not completely unfamiliar with the feeling, she did live with her old grandmother, after all, but since meeting Sam it felt like her whole life was being readjusted. She would be the first to admit that she wasn't one to have particularly strong morals, but the other girl was a fierce example of stubborn bravery and vehement conviction, if she were so stereotypical she would say that Sam was an All-American Girl in the way that she seemed to uphold the true meaning of independence and liberty. It was a shame that such a thing didn't seem to mean anything to the Sector Seven agents.

Fidgeting in her seat Mikaela alternated between looking out of the windows, in search of the Autobots, and out of the windshield, never quite able to look at her struggling companions for too long. She was starting to feel useless and it was too late to try and do something to help them; she'd already tried reasoning with the two agents with her and had only received frosty silence for her efforts, she'd even tried the doors; kicking and pushing, but all of her efforts were in vain. Wringing her hands, she jumped when the area around Sam and Bumblebee was suddenly covered in several plumes of thick, white mist.

"What is- What are they doing? What is that?" She leaned forward, her hands clenched on the backrest of the passenger seat.

The agents didn't answer her and fear for her companions curled in her stomach. What if that mist was some sort of poison, knock-out gas? What would happen to them? Who was the mist meant for, anyway?

Her line of thought was abruptly cut off as she watched the flow of mist from one agent's weapon stop suddenly, his weapon colliding with his helmeted head as he fell back, obviously caught off guard. She blinked as Sam's small form appeared amongst the rapidly clearing mist before she ducked back towards Bumblebee. The corners of Mikaela's mouth twitched involuntarily.

_'That girl is unbelievable,'_

It seemed that it would take a lot more to stop Sam from causing some kind of havoc and Mikaela couldn't help but be encouraged as another agent met a similar fate before Sam skirted back towards Bumblebee for a second time. It really was amazing that the girl was willing to put so much effort into helping a race they barely even knew. Mikaela couldn't possibly try to suppress her smile.

Mikaela's smile widened as she watched a third agent stumble away from the mist before her heart suddenly dropped with dread; her eyes snapping wide open as a gasp wrenched itself from her mouth. In all but a second Sam's handiwork seemed totally pointless. Her teeth dug into her lower lip as she watched Sam struggle on the ground, fighting valiantly against the agents before she was lifted away from the scene and practically dragged towards the SUVs.

Mikaela squirmed against the sound of Bumblebee's loud, keening wail and cursed Sector Seven and all it stood for to the pits of hell. It was painful to watch the exchange between Sam and Bumblebee, Mikaela couldn't tell who was hurting more. Sector Seven had no right to do this. It was downright immoral and went against all their values as Americans. It didn't matter what was actually happening, it wasn't supposed to happen like this.

She watched helplessly as Sam was pushed into the SUV and for a moment she could only stare as the smaller girl kicked and screamed at the car's door and window in frustration. Her mouth fell open in disbelief as Sam finally acknowledged that she wasn't going to get out of the car on her own and turned towards the windshield with pained eyes.

"Sam, your face…" Mikaela uttered, transfixed on the grizzly sight, moving slowly towards the girl.

Dirt and blood smudged the visible side of Sam's face in a painful pattern, bruises and scratches melding together to form a grotesque example of cruelty and cold-heartedness at its best. Reaching out to the girl and laying a warm hand on a frail shoulder Mikaela's shock was amplified.

"God, your _freezing_," Mikaela breathed worriedly, shrugging off her denim jacket and quickly wrapping it around the unresponsive girl, "Come over here, you need to warm up."

Mikaela tugged the girl closer to her, wrapping her arms around Sam's smaller form, trying to keep her still and, hopefully, warm her up as the SUVs engine rumbled to life but it quickly became clear that keeping warm was not one of Sam's top priorities. She flitted from window to window, staring back at the slowly shrinking image of her guardian as they pulled onto the main road and Mikaela cursed Sector Seven once again for separating them.

She watched as Sam seemed to wilt as they made a turn and Bumblebee finally vanished from their view. Sighing, she pulled the smaller girl towards her again, encasing her in a hug. Mikaela hadn't been much help so far, and she doubted she could be in the future; she wasn't a fighter and she wasn't brave like Sam but she could at least try and support her when she needed to be comforted.

* * *

Sam allowed Mikaela to pull her into a hug, utterly listless in the taller girl's arms. She didn't want to think anymore, every time she tried to figure out just how everything had gone so wrong a dull ache would settle in her chest and an unbearable sense of disappointment gripped at her whole being.

She felt exhausted; as if she had spent the remainder of whatever energy she had left and that she would never get it back. Her body was aflame with pain and moving it wasn't an option anymore, even breathing and blinking elicited a stab of pain that Sam wished would just _stop_. The chill that had consumed her arms had given way to a prickling heat that caused her eyelids to droop lazily; and she was content to let them drop, wanting to stop the shivering that would jolt her arms intermittently.

"No, Sam, you can't go to sleep, not now…" Mikaela's voice seemed miles away in her ears, as if she was drifting away and Sam's brow only twitched in response.

"Sam, don't! You can't fall asleep, it's dangerous!" A gentle touch at her jaw sent a pang of pain through the side of her face and Sam's eyes cracked open momentarily before they dropped again, "Sam, please don't do this… Say something, please, if you can hear me?"

"Mm…? Too far away… louder…" Sam mumbled back only semi-coherently.

"Sam, just-just keep talking alright? You can't go to sleep," Sam tried to nod but all she achieved was a shot of pain down her neck.

Figuring it would be better to speak rather than move anything other than her lips Sam attempted to string a sentence together in her misery but all that came out in her sluggish state was a mixture of garbled vowels and consonants that even Sam couldn't quite decipher. Mikaela, however, didn't seem to mind and she replied with what Sam guessed were reassuring words and gentle pats on her raw shoulder.

It frustrated Sam to no end. She wasn't one to be very sentimental and when required she expressed her feelings in her own unique way but the emotional turmoil she was experiencing was agonizing. She was used to having a very practical approach to everything, she was used to relying on her quick thinking and instant responses but her current predicament left her vulnerable, something she rarely ever felt with her staggering confidence. Sam had never felt so defeated and extremely helpless in her whole life and it distressed her more than anything else.

Having all but given up, Sam let Mikaela move her into a barely comfortable sitting position before she wrapped something warm and heavy around her. Sam didn't want to surrender yet, she knew that she wasn't ready to but in her current position it seemed unavoidable. Furrowing her brows Sam struggled to pry her eyes open against the foreboding stinging and promised herself that she wouldn't cry. But as her tired eyes landed on the quickly moving streetlights outside, the tears came unbidden.

* * *

**End of Chapter Nine: Rewind, Repeat**

* * *

**Next Chapter: Chapter Ten: Blue Airwaves**

**Author's Notes:**

So, I didn't like that the movie had a severe lack of injuries. I mean, Sam was treated as some sort of ball to be thrown around by giant robots more than once, it left me questioning: 'Where are the broken bones, man?' I'm trying to make my interpretation of Sam's injuries accurate but medical encyclopedias are tedious so forgive me for any inaccuracies… Just chalk them up to Sam being very resilient… Or not… Whatever fits…?

Don't worry about Sam's catatonic state… She'll come around… And I think I'm done with the torture now… I think… If it cheers you all up I won't be blowing Bee's legs off (I have a perfectly logical reason for this, which will be explained by Ratchet a lot later).

Now, moving on: SomeReallyRandomPerson pointed out that I made a contextual mistake in the last chapter. While this is valid (and I'm_ so_ happy that someone noticed) and I can see why someone would think it's a mistake, I have to point out that… **it's not**. I should have said this earlier but I have this _thing_ for foreshadowing future events and leaving little puns and references- small things that you won't immediately notice and probably won't notice unless it's pointed out. I've been obsessed with the technique ever since year 9 when we were doing Macbeth.

If you never notice these things; its fine, you don't need to, you can still understand everything without them, but if you _can_ notice them then well-bloody-done- you are _good_!

Now, since it's the time for giving I'll be nice and give you some info, consider it a Christmas present:

All the current chapters have clues in them. (No, really. I'm just big on subtlety.)

Chapters 2 and 6 refer to two characters I'm going to introduce in the sequel. It should be easier to spot in 6.

1 has a reference for a scene I'm planning on for the sequel.

The little snippet of Aaliyah's song in 4 is relevant for 3 4 and an event in the sequel.

There's a very spoiler-ific paragraph in 5 for the current storyline.

You should look at how I split up my chapters too, how I change points of view etc. Also; you may want to pay attention to peculiar words- ones that stick out and/or ones that have double meanings.

You should probably pay attention to the chapter titles too. I like giving hints in those. They're not just catchy names.

Merry Christmas to you all! Especially:

KitsuneyJenfner, Elita One, blood shifter, flamingmarsh, serenity8118 (x2), morning sun, PsychoWing, SomeReallRandomPerson (Thanks again!), Blackwing.Rose, jazztransformsme (And you shall vent even more if I have anything to do with it :B), Niteskye (Tuning Fork. lolololol. But hey, it's Japanese, what're you gonna do? (I personally cringed every time they shouted 'Transform!'), ArmoredSoul, Fk306 animelover, LoveHopes and Narnian Sprite.

-bot

P.S. You all hate me now, don't you?


	10. 10 Blue Airwaves

**Chapter:** Chapter Ten: Blue Airwaves  
**Chapter Summary:** When Secret Government Organizations take the title too far…  
**Word Count:** 4, 284  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers: The Movie (Either of them) or Transformers: The Animated Series (Any of them). They belong to Hasbro and what have you. I also don't own any franchises or songs or movie references you may notice. I just own an over-active imagination.  
**Rating:** (T) or (M) – Somewhere in between?  
**Warnings:_ Disturbing content (Semi-Graphic descriptions of battery/wounds)_**, Bad Humor, Gender-bending. Also- SPOILERS!  
**Author's Note:** The summary makes me laugh every time I read it… It's like a bad cop show tagline…

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Blue Airwaves**

There was no calming her frazzled nerves.

Mikaela had been fidgeting continually with the black Sector Seven jacket that was draped over Sam and partially over herself for hours. She tried not to shift her body too much as Sam had finally calmed down and she didn't want to needlessly discomfort the girl, but the longer they were stuck in the Sector Seven SUV the harder keeping still seemed to be. Staring out of the moving car's window towards the lightening sky Mikaela wondered just how much longer Sam was going to last and just how she was going to act when that time came.

The short girl had all but fainted in her arms a few hours ago, after their traumatic separation from Bumblebee, and Mikaela had been clueless as to how she could prevent the girl from slipping into unconsciousness. She didn't know much of anything when it came to First-Aid but after accompanying the girl all day long, she knew that it couldn't be safe for her to lose consciousness, especially not when they had no idea where they were going or if the place they were going was anywhere near a hospital, which Mikaela was sure they would need if Sam was to spontaneously collapse.

It had been a relief when Sam's eyes had finally opened fully after nearly fifteen minutes of persuasion from Mikaela. Granted, it had pained her to see tears leaking from the dauntless girl's eyes but it reassured her that Sam was coherent enough to at least feel sad about what had happened. It seemed that Sam's tears were only the first milestone in her rather minor and depressing recovery but Mikaela was still glad when her violent shivering was slowly replaced by soft, irregular hiccoughs and short gasps for air.

Now, while Sam looked deceptively calm and content under her blank, tear streaked mask Mikaela openly fretted as small licks of paranoia teased at her burning and alert senses. She would be merciful and leave Sam to gain her bearings but that meant that she would have to look out for the both of them. However, no matter how hard she tried to rationalize and think of a strategy to get them out of their current, disastrous situation, she still felt like they were two flies trapped in a web, feebly watching the deadly spider approach; knowing that they were well and truly trapped.

Mikaela knew she shouldn't but she still couldn't stop her emotions playing out across her face. She knew that she couldn't let the Sector Seven agents know what she was feeling; she knew it could be used against her but what had seemed so easy to her the day before was proving to be impossibly difficult in the early hours of the horrible morning after.

She'd always been good at hiding her feelings, the talent came with the territory of being one of the most popular girls in school, but she'd always had time to rehearse things like that. Growing up, she'd always been prepared for anything life could possibly want to throw at her; not being as financially stable as her friends her father had made the decision that she would grow up quickly- not only because she'd stop being a bother but because it would undoubtedly help her; help her keep her 'head above water and to get a taste of what it was really going to be like when it was finally time to fly the nest, so to speak,' or at least, that's how her father had put it. He'd been right; without his help she would never have come to appreciate what an artful lie could get her, nor would she have been able to save herself from years of social torment from her peers. It was a good thing, in a way, that her father had royally ruined her childhood but as Mikaela watched the driver pull into what could only be an airport she cursed the fact her fail-safe was failing.

'_Failing, and failing badly,'_ the words were the only things that could even start to describe her best attempts to try and pull through and come out of this whole mess standing.

* * *

"I'll see you on the other side, Ms. Madsen,"

That's what The Secretary Of Defense had said to her before they boarded separate helicopters, his voice oddly solemn and apprehensive. It did nothing for her confidence.

She had watched the influential man as a suited agent escorted him to a helicopter, its rotors spinning and ready against the lightening sky. As was fitting of his position, his posture was as relaxed and commanding as it could ever be; not showing anything through his ever thoughtful mask yet still letting the bystanders know that he was inexplicably annoyed. It was mildly reassuring to know, that even in this mysterious circumstance, there was at least one person who could step up and try to sort things out and put them back into their original order. It would take much more, however, to fully convince her that everything would be alright.

She wasn't naïve in the least.

She could easily tell how all those black suited agents were nervous; it was obvious that they were jumpy and twitchy. Unlike her, they knew exactly what was happening, and it couldn't have been good, and knowing what she knew it was apparent that it wasn't good.

The Secretary of Defense had taken the liberty of informing the signals' analyst and her hacker friend of exactly what was happening. 'Exactly' being however much of the whole story he, himself, actually knew. It didn't look at all good to her. From only being given a limited amount of information by means of a covert government organization to being carted off to an undisclosed location; everything was turning out to be much too secretive for her liking.

As she had watched the Secretary of Defense's helicopter finally take off Maggie had wondered if they had a fighting chance or if they were in over their heads.

"Hey, you think we'll get some sort of award for this? You know, like a little medal or somethin'?" Her friend had asked the question with childish, almost ignorant hope and she couldn't stop the frown that appeared on her face.

"We haven't done anything yet."

"Yeah, but it's obvious that we are, isn't it? I mean, you heard the man- national security and all that!" Glen had looked hopeful and excited, their short drive to the airport turning his subdued mood into one of insatiable curiosity.

She had not been sure how to respond to his statement because, if she was completely honest with herself, she wasn't sure if there was anything else they could do; unless this 'Sector Seven' had anymore signals that they couldn't decipher, which she doubted was the case, then she and Glen would be useless to a fault. They weren't soldiers or strategists, who, Maggie knew, they would inevitably need, so there really wasn't any point to them being there. The ghastly thought that they were being taken to a hidden location so that they could be 'disposed of' because they had come to know about the so-called 'aliens' was quickly and mercilessly pushed out of her mind.

She had looked away from her friend then and turned instead to several runways, staring at them as if they could provide answers for her, and she realized that, no matter how much she speculated, she couldn't possibly answer Glen's question. There were too many factors at work and many of them were hidden from her, it wouldn't do to make assumptions at this stage; she'd only end up being disappointed.

Fortunately, she was saved from any other questions Glen may have wanted to ask her when a cough sounded out behind them. Soberly, they had been led to another helicopter, this one a fraction larger than the one the Secretary of Defense had boarded, and then were settled comfortably into seats, their ears covered and their backs to two agents dressed in black army garb. Breathing deeply and leaning her head back as she closed her eyes Maggie waited for the helicopter rotors to start spinning.

"Wake me up when we arrive," she had muttered softly as the rotors overhead started blaring.

She had closed her eyes and prepared for a long journey but it seemed as if only minutes had passed when she felt something blunt knocking her in the ribs. Blinking her eyes open slowly and indulging in a light yawn she looked out of the helicopter and saw that they were at another airport and that their helicopter was silent.

Looking around in confusion, noting that Glen looked just as confused and much more restless, Maggie spotted a suited agent looking towards her. She raised an inquisitive brow.

"There are a few more people coming in," the agent said shortly before turning away and Maggie found herself frowning again.

Giving Glen a sideways glance Maggie wondered who else could be coming. Making her way down a mental list of all the possibilities, she found that there were very few people that could be arriving; Secretary Keller had informed them that the soldiers who had escaped from the base attack in Qatar had gone ahead of them, so that left only a mish-mash of scientists that Maggie was sure the government organization had a hold of already. So, who could be coming?

She closed her eyes again, deciding to rest her eyes as they waited for the late arrivals, when she felt Glen's elbow hit her in the ribs again. Looking up she spotted a black SUV, identical to the one they had arrived in.

She watched intently, Glen at her shoulder, as a figure slowly exited the SUV, to her surprise the girl looked to be in her teens. A look of puzzlement morphed onto her face as the long-haired girl ducked her upper body back into the SUV and moved something around very slowly.

It didn't make sense. She could understand wanting more soldiers or scientists present at wherever they were going but a teenager, and a dirty one at that, didn't seem to fit into the picture she'd painted in her mind at all. Her surprise and puzzlement quickly turned into shock as she watched the long-haired girl help a smaller girl out of the SUV, a large, black jacket dwarfing her already slight frame.

A small gasp escaped from her lips as she focused on the smaller girl's face and she suddenly felt it would be prudent to turn away, so, wrenching her gaze away from the two newcomers, she frantically gestured for Glen to look away too before he spotted something amiss with the two girls.

She still watched, from the corner of her eyes, as the taller girl attempted to help the smaller one to the helicopter only to be softly brushed off as she made her unsteady path towards the helicopter. There wasn't a word to describe how awful the smaller girl looked and Maggie found it horrifically shocking but she still couldn't stop watching the newcomers with morbid fascination.

She managed to tone down her stare as the girls were helped into the helicopter and refrained from speaking, all together finding it to be more polite if she kept silent. Glen, unfortunately, did not share her sentiments.

"What happened to you?" No matter how rude she thought it was, Maggie couldn't stop herself from looking at the broken looking girl as she silently turned to her taller friend.

Feeling it was her responsibility to clean up the mess of things that Glen had made, Maggie hastily introduced herself.

"Hi, I'm Maggie Madsen, analyst from the RAND Corporation," Tilting her head towards Glen she continued, "This is Glen Whitmann."

The taller, and obviously more lucid, of the two girls studied her with hard eyes, and Maggie had to wonder what could have induced such a reaction, before she was answered in a muted tone.

"Mikaela Banes and Sam Witwicky."

Maggie recognized the surname at once and suddenly everything seemed ten times more confusing than before.

* * *

The pain had ebbed, somewhat, but compared to the irritating, random stings of agony that now laced themselves up and down her body, Sam felt as if what she had felt before was nothing. She was still tired; she could feel her muscles going stiff and her arms tingling with heat, the cold wind beating against her skin and awakening her senses in the sharpest way; the awareness she had now was the ultimate torture. Knowing that all these separate places hurt beyond cognition and also knowing that there wasn't anything she could do but to ignore their combined grating on her pain threshold was perhaps the most distracting thing Sam had ever experienced.

The two adults goggling at her didn't help the matter either.

She found it quite annoying; she'd thought they'd stop looking at her like she was some sort of animal in a zoo after she'd told them an abridged version of what had happened to them; biting out the explanation through throbbing jaws, stuttering and stumbling over her words every now and again when her bones gave a particularly violent pang. Sam had to admit that she was more than a little suspicious of them; they had known things that they, logically, shouldn't have known, unless, of course, they'd been told by Sector Seven. But from what the blonde had said then it seemed that the adults too were being taken to the mysterious Sector Seven Headquarters for the first time.

While Sam did feel a certain amount of trepidation towards them she wasn't too concerned; arrogant as it seemed, she didn't think that the two looked like much. Quite honestly, Sam had no idea why these two could be visiting Sector Seven; one of them looked like a bimbo who wouldn't be a touch out of place in Mikaela's circle of friends and the other… well; the other was a wimp, to put it bluntly. The rotund man had all but jumped out of the helicopter when she'd glared at him after he'd asked a most obtrusive question. Sam found some measure of amusement in it; he reminded her of the tech geeks in school.

Sniffing absentmindedly in the cold air Sam pulled the standard, black Sector Seven jacket closed above her bruised collarbone, a dark cloud appearing over her head as she narrowed her eyes at the horizon. She wasn't one to openly reject offers of help but just this once she wished she had been coherent enough to refuse the agent's jacket. She would accept that, if it hadn't been for the army style jacket, she would be much more uncomfortable than she already was but that didn't mean she had to be thankful. It may have been stubborn and juvenile of her but she refused to accept the action as one with pure intentions; she saw the jacket, with its large Sector Seven crest above the breast and the various patches describing ranks she didn't understand, as an attack on her pride.

And she liked her pride. Cold, hard and fierce, she would do anything to defend it; in her current situation, along with her dignity, her pride was all she had.

* * *

He couldn't say he felt sorry. Business was business, after all. But he couldn't suppress the foreboding feeling that traveled down his spine when the girl's glaring eyes landed on him.

Tough cookie, he might have teased, if the girl didn't look two seconds away from beating the tar out of him. And he didn't doubt that she could, even if she was as exhausted as she must have been, he had seen the awesome fight she had put up near the river; he wouldn't be fooled by her diminutive size. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to aggravate her anymore than was necessary.

"Hey kiddo," He tried the 'good cop' act, facing the vexed girl with a smile, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder or something similar.

He didn't get very far. The little midget stepped out of his reach with surprising fluidity and glared at him with the fury of a thousand Nevada suns. Simmons couldn't help but be impressed, had he been a lesser man he would have flinched and backed off.

"Okay, I can understand that, but you must be hungry, right? You want a Milkshake? Chocolate? Mickie Dees?"

"I'd rather have my car," Simmons was impressed again. He knew the girl was furious with him, with everybody wearing a Sector Seven badge, probably, but her voice was deadly calm, 'deadly' being the key word. He winced inwardly, she wasn't going to go easy on them, that much was painfully obvious.

"Miss, I need you to listen to me very carefully," Luckily, Banachek decided to intervene; the man was infamously unflappable so he'd have a much easier time talking some sense into the girl, "People can die here. We need to know everything you know and we need to know it now."

Unsurprisingly, she shot him down with the hardheadedness that only teenagers possessed.

"Alright, but I'd feel more comfortable if I had my car. You know, the yellow one that you took."

"We don't have the clearance to release NBE-2," Simmons told her dryly and momentarily reveled in the thought that she really must be infuriated with him.

"Yeah, okay," The girl nodded understandingly, a guileless expression upon her face (though it was a bit hard to tell), "But I'm not asking for clearance on NBE-2. I'm not _asking _for anything: I _want_ my car back. Then we can talk about you kidnapping me, my family and a total stranger who's not even related to the situation, after that we can get onto the whole breaking and entering thing back at my house, I know my dad would never, willingly, let you in… And then of course there's the issue that, if in fact you have 'arrested' me as I'm sure you're going to say, I haven't had my rights read to me… If we can manage to sort all that out first… then... then I'll think about it."

"Hey, this is a national security matter! You can't withhold information!" Simmons had every right to be indignant as he said this.

"Yeah, well, if you're going to play that game then we have a problem because I can't be withholding information if I can't remember it. You see, I've been bumped on the head quite a few times in the past hours… It'll be nothing short of a miracle if I can even remember my name," The girl was in top form, and also a twisted little piece of work, her expression nothing short of deadpan.

He just hoped Banachek wouldn't break that easily.

He did.

* * *

It was a relief to see the soldiers from Qatar in one piece and standing at the ready. It was familiar and something he could work with; something that had become a rarity in the past couple of days.

John Keller hadn't known what to think when Tom Banachek had fleetingly explained what they could be, potentially, facing. It hadn't boded well and the general mood that hung around the Sector Seven base had gotten increasingly suffocating as the minutes ticked by. Keller hoped that this bizarre organization had some semblance of a plan formed to launch a counter-attack, maybe a defense, at this point in time he didn't care how rudimentary it may be; he just needed the reassurance that they had _something_.

This was mainly the reason why he felt unnecessarily attached to the small group of soldiers in front of him.

"At ease. Captain, Sergeant. Got your Intel; excellent work."

The men all relaxed, if only a little, and he felt relieved as he studied them. They were all young, the Captain being the youngest, and all of them had bright futures ahead of them. It relieved him to know that there may be hope for his country yet.

He spoke amiably to the soldiers, discussing their contact with the aliens, possible strategies, where the aliens may strike next, waiting for their guides to arrive as the facility was cleared of tourists. He fell into an old and comfortable pattern and let his nonsensical hope mount as Maggie Madsen and her friend arrived and then shortly after them, Banachek and another agent followed by two others he couldn't see.

The strange party studied one another with neutral gazes, wondering why each person was there. He looked to Banachek and the stoic man nodded at him in a show of respect and he took center stage, all eyes focusing on him.

"Now, I'm sure you're all confused about what's happening and to be honest, so am I, but that's why we're here," Keller took control of the situation, as he was prone to do, while explaining things as best he could, "To be honest, we may be facing a war that we have no hope of winning, and you're all here because you've had contact with what we're facing in some way or other. What we are facing, to put it very simply, is a race of highly technologically advanced alien life-forms." He paused here to let the information sink in.

"This," The old man motioned towards the leader of the small contingent of soldiers standing beside him, backs straight and staring dead ahead as if the horizon was persuasively captivating, "Is Captain Lennox, he and his team faced two of these life-forms in Qatar, they've aided us in discovering a weakness in the aliens' defenses," Turning from the soldiers he faced the civilians, focusing first on Maggie and Glen, "Maggie Madsen and Glen Whitmann, they're responsible for detecting and deciphering the alien signal," finally, he turned to the teenage girls standing slightly behind and to the right of Banachek and stared quietly at the smaller of the two, not quite believing what he was seeing.

Most of the girl's face was swollen; bruised and turning several ugly shades of red, blue and purple, particularly dark around her jaw and the side of her brow where blood and maybe sweat glistened darkly in the hot sun. Scratches dotted her face here and there; most had bled, leaving small red-turning-brown tracks in their wake. A small, red blossom of blood curling at one corner of her cracked lips completed her battered look.

"Dear Lord, girl, what happened to you?" He whispered, brows furrowed, "Where you-" He turned to Banachek, "-Did she come into contact with the aliens as well?"

A snort drew him, and his audience, back to the girls. The taller of the two had crossed her previously limp arms across her chest and was glaring heatedly at the agent that accompanied Banachek while Maggie and Glen were both throwing the Sector Seven agents dirty looks. What made the aged Secretary start, however, was the look on the shortest girl's face.

Her eyes were narrowed, almost imperceptibly, at the corners, the hazel brown orbs holding such smoldering hate that the politician was surprised someone hadn't dropped dead from the intensity of it yet, and her mouth was stretched loosely into a mocking, disfigured and humorless sneer; stark white teeth blinding against the bruised and bleeding flesh they were surrounded by.

"Oh, isn't this how people who've been kidnapped by the government are supposed to look?" The girl spoke; her words muffled slightly, her mouth making minimal movement; as if it pained her to move her jaw, "My bad."

"Now, look here, we were within our rights to-" The unnamed agent started but was cut off by the girl's quiet, deadpan voice.

"To what? Break more than a dozen of the laws that you, as the government, are supposed to uphold? To kidnap four civilians, two of which, if you don't know, are minors? To kidnap and torture a potential ally? What? Do tell me if I'm missing something," the girl stared at the government agents in turn, challenging them to say something, anything, in defense before she turned to the aged Secretary, staring at him blankly for a few seconds.

"Oh, I'm sorry; you mustn't know who I am. So sorry," her words had the most sarcastic edge to them that Keller felt the rising urge to reprimand her for her sass, "I'm Sam Witwicky, this is Mikaela Banes. We're the civilians who really shouldn't be here."

The girl gestured to the dark-haired teenager beside her before she held out her hand for Keller to shake. He stopped short when he saw her hand. Again, like her face, the flesh of her small appendage was swollen and a bruised pinkish-red, a few spots of red marring her palm.

He guessed that he'd hesitated for too long because the girl cleared her throat, causing him to look up as she raised a quivering eyebrow at him, the unblemished corner of her mouth curling slightly in a mocking way.

"Well, Miss. Witwicky, do you have any idea as to why you're here?" He shook her hand softly for fear of hurting her as he questioned her. He was quite curious as to the girl's connection with the possible threat of another war.

"Beats me," The girl answered easily and he realized that she was being intentionally difficult.

Before he had the chance to call her out on it the agent that stood beside Banachek cut in, much too jovial for the tense atmosphere.

"Well, now that we're all introduced, shall we move on to the reason why you're all here?"

* * *

**End of Chapter Ten: Blue Airwaves**

* * *

**Next Chapter: Chapter Eleven: Ice and Concrete**

**Author's Notes:**

How many POVs can wierdbot fit into a single chapter? 5, apparently. HOSHIT. Overload: Imminent.

I feel there may be a bit of confusion with this chapter but I don't think it'll be anything major but if you are confused about something just ask.

Now, before I go, if somebody could just answer this, I'd be very grateful:-

**Why do you all seem to hate Mikaela? (Seriously, don't give me any BS about how you don't- I can _see_ it)** It puzzles me.

I wish everyone a great start to the New Year! Happy 2008, peeps!

Extra special wishes to:

Elita One, blood shifter (Ooh, I feel like giving you a spoiler**–resists-**), morning sun (Well… she did get kicked by OP with Sam so… bruised ribs, at _least_, right now), serenity8118, bbratteberget (She is so much more kick-ass, isn't she?), flamingmarsh, SomeReallyRandomPerson (Don't frikkin' apologize! You noticed it! Go dance and scream with joy and stuff), Blood Of Anubis (God, you're evil…), KitsuneyJenfner, Blue Viper, FK306 animelover, LoveHopes, silvane (Yaaay! **–is very bigheaded now-**), jazztransformsme, darthwessel666 (Well, I had to balance out the coolness somehow), ArmoredSoul and Niteskye (Fun is cool. Please carry on).

-bot


	11. 11 Ice and Concrete

**Chapter:** Chapter Eleven: Ice and Concrete  
**Chapter Summary:** Simplicity in a maze of conspiracy.  
**Word Count:** 4, 131  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers: The Movie (Either of them) or Transformers: The Animated Series (Any of them). They belong to Hasbro and what have you. I also don't own any franchises or songs or movie references you may notice. I just own an over-active imagination.  
**Rating:** (T) - (PG-13)  
**Warnings:** Bad Humor, Gender-bending. SPOILERS!  
**Author's Note:** 1st Exam? I OWNED IT. See you in a week. BTW the chapter title isn't describing S7 HQ.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Ice and Concrete**

A whirlwind. That was the only way to describe it. It couldn't possibly be anything other than a whirlwind. Fast and furious it swept them up and moved them from disaster to disaster. He could have chosen to describe the experience as a nightmare but that would have been entirely inaccurate; nightmares ended, when they reached the pinnacle of terror they would stop abruptly and you were free to rejoin reality and the world of rationality. This was real; no waking from it, no avoiding it, no rationalizing it. It was reality in its harshest, most brutal form- war.

He knew, from the very beginning of the whole debacle, that there had to be more to the attack, the devastation they had suffered at SOCCENT. Everything had a reason, a purpose; it always did, whether it be big or small or moral or spiritual- there was _always_ an incentive. And in war, such things were unstoppable, unbreakable. Being a soldier, he understood that better than anyone else ever could and he'd be fooling himself if he tried to deny it, to try and pretend he was naïve when he wasn't. It was something he'd given up long ago and it was the reason he'd managed to rise up in the ranks of the army so quickly. He was no stranger to loss, to failure, to unthinkable surprises; he'd had to learn about all of them the hard way- there was no training for that sort of thing.

It was, perhaps, the most painful thing to carry on with his duties, even when he knew what it involved; how much he was affecting others, how much everything was affecting him. If he was being particularly optimistic he would call it karma, or an exchange- a circle of life thing. If he was being particularly pessimistic he would call it penance for all the sins he had committed; punishment and, sometimes, torture for doing what he knew, deep down in his heart, was wrong.

Quit.

It was a taunting specter that haunted him on occasion. It would be so easy to simply give up and quit, and the knowledge that the pain would only stop when he stopped provoked unbidden thoughts. He knew he couldn't. People had high expectations of him; his superiors, his family, his wife, they all expected _something_ of him. Something that he wasn't always sure he could provide, an expectation he couldn't fulfill, an image he couldn't complete. Because of that, he couldn't quit.

Weak.

The word would echo in his mind every now and then and the implications would flood past his confidence until there was nothing left. Why did he have to please them? Why should he risk his sanity for them? Because he _was_ weak and he needed anchors. In pure defiance to that word and all it stood for, the thought left him feeling proud of himself. He needed his anchors to get through his life in the army; he needed to know that, no matter how far he went, he had something to pull him back. The feeling was reinforced when he was back on American soil; he was home and he had his team, broken and incomplete as it was, and because of this he could complete his mission, whatever it may be.

William Lennox hadn't known what to expect when he'd arrived at Hoover Dam and whatever it was had been forever wiped from his mind when the introductions had ended. Everything suddenly seemed a little ridiculous. He was never one to judge but after witnessing the chaos in Qatar he had to wonder what the civilians were doing at the Dam. He hadn't been reassured at all during the Secretary of Defense's introduction.

Two technicians and two teenage girls. It had been an unwelcome shock when he'd spotted the two girls, and the injuries of the shorter girl having nothing to do with it. Of course, it had been disconcerting to speculate about _why _the girl looked as she did, but he had seen worse and that wasn't what bothered him. The two girls couldn't have been any older than sixteen and yet they looked suitably haggard and beaten and were being initiated into a small circle of people who were involved with a possible war and invasion.

"Alright, here's the situation: you've all had direct contact with the NBEs,"

It just didn't make any sense and, as much as he would have liked to think it over, it seemed that 'Sector Seven' wanted to keep them as disoriented as possible with the way they quickly rushed them inside the dam.

"NBEs?"

"Non-Biological Extraterrestrials. Try and keep up with the acronyms." He spotted Epps, who had asked the question, looking slightly affornted at Agent Simmons, he could sympathize; they'd only known the man a few minutes and already he was rubbing off on them the wrong way.

"From what we've found so far, they're extremely technologically advanced robotic beings. There are similarities between them and humans such as their bipedal structure, their need for a substance that we can only define to be their blood and their regenerative abilities which are slightly similar to our cell division, as far as we know, that's where the similarities end."

"That's not true,"

"There were two in Qatar; the smaller one didn't stand on two feet,"

Epps and Sam Witwicky, the shorter of the two teenage girls, spoke at the same time.

"As much as we have been able to discover about the species, it is apparent that there is much we still don't know," the suited agent, Banachek, explained to Epps before turning to the teenager and asking evenly, "Which part of our information do you think is incorrect?"

"They have a lot more in common with humans," the girl answered simply and Lennox couldn't help but wonder how she knew such a thing, "They have personalities and feelings, they're robots in the sense that they're mechanical. They're not at all different from humans if you want to think about it empathically."

Banachek nodded at the girl, his face not betraying even a sliver of emotion, and then gestured for Simmons to carry on with his explanation.

"Through extensive study we've learned that they run on a seemingly unlimited electrical source and a fluid that we have not been able to replicate or, as I said before, correctly define, they all seem to have an energy field that repels foreign signals and protects them from a range of physical stressors.

"During extensive research we've only found them to have two weaknesses, extreme cold," Simmons paused here and nodded to him and his team, "And extreme heat."

They finally stopped outside a large circular door that resembled the vault of a bank but on a much large scale.

"You said that you've been researching the species," one of the technicians, Maggie Madsen spoke up, trailing off, "How? How did you…"

"What you're about to see is totally classified," Banachek said in an authoritative voice that left no room for argument.

The small group immediately tensed as the vault-like door was opened painstakingly slowly to reveal a long dim tunnel. Apprehensively, they followed the two agents through the tunnel and towards the light, suddenly aware of the unnatural chill that hung in the air.

'_We're doomed,'_ Lennox tried, unsuccessfully, to squash the thought but the longer he stared at the gigantic robot, the harder it became.

"Dear God. What is this?" He could empathize with the old man. This robot was on a completely different scale to the one in Qatar, it was just as big but it looked a hundred times more vicious. It looked like death personified.

"We think, when he made his approach over the North Pole, our gravitational pull screwed up his telemetry," Banachek explained as he and Simmons led them further into the cold hangar, "He crashed in the ice, probably a few thousand years ago. We shipped him here to this facility in 1934."

"We call him NBE-1," Simmons supplied.

"Well," the Witwicky girl started once again, this time her voice holding a touch of sarcasm, "I'm not one to correct people every time they're wrong but that's Megatron."

Once again all eyes were on the short girl, looking for an explanation.

"Megatron. You know, the leader of the Decepticons?" The succinct sarcasm she'd displayed outside was back in full force.

"He's been in cryostasis since 1935," Banachek said, not at all phased that the girl seemed to know more than they did, "Your great-great-grandfather made one of the greatest discoveries in the history of mankind."

"Fact is, you're looking at the source of the modern age, the microchip, lasers, spaceflight, cars- all reverse-engineered from studying him. NBE-1. That's what we call it." Simmons said, disbelief etched upon his face as he spoke directly to Sam Witwicky.

The knowledge that the technological age of Earth came from an alien was slightly demoralizing in Lennox's eyes. It felt like they'd all been a part of a big hoax without even knowing it and it made him wonder what would have happened if the alien hadn't been discovered.

"And you didn't think the United States Military might need to know that you're keeping a hostile alien robot frozen in the basement?" The anger in John Keller's voice was mirrored on the faces of his team and he couldn't blame them. They'd suffered unnecessary losses, suffered a tragedy that could have been avoided had they been prepared, had they _known_.

"Until these events, we had no credible threat to national security," Banachek answered again in his blank voice and Lennox snorted humorlessly.

"Well, you got one now," The Secretary of Defense's voice took on a tone that immediately reminded Lennox of the short girl standing just a few feet way.

"So, why Earth?" He asked, knowing his men wanted to know too, as he looked towards the alien's head.

He was answered by Sam Witwicky.

"It's the All Spark."

Keller's voice mirrored the girl's, "All Spark? What is that?"

"Well, he came here for this cube looking thing," she answered nonchalantly, gesturing to the frozen robot, "I don't know much about it; it's supposed to be big and made of metal and apparently it can give them life… Oh and it's kind of like their God..." She gave a fake little laugh as she glared at the two agents, "Anyway, Mr. NBE-1, here, A.K.A. _Megatron_– that's what they call him- is basically the Harbinger of Death and wants to use the All Spark's power to transform human – well, that's not right, it can't be human if we didn't make it ourselves… whatever- technology to take over the universe. That's his plan."

"Are you sure about that?" Simmons asked, for once his voice as blank as his colleague's.

"Well, yeah…" A skeptical look appeared on the girl's face, "Didn't you know that? I mean, you're keeping him frozen here in the middle of the desert, I assumed that you knew what was going on."

While the girl's points were valid it seemed like she was enjoying toying with the agents a little too much, something that became all too clear when the two agents looked decidedly uncomfortable.

"You know where it is," a predatory smile spread across her face, her tone accusatory, "Don't you?"

* * *

John Keller hadn't liked the idea of a top secret government organization. He'd liked it even less when it became apparent that said top secret government organization had distorted certain events in their country's history to suit its needs. But he absolutely loathed the idea of a top secret government organization when he, the Secretary of Defense, didn't know about it.

It was absolutely ridiculous. To think that Sector Seven was so arrogant to presume that they could actually subdue an alien race, to even consider that they could study a being so advanced that it sprung all of earth's modern technology and _get away with it_ in secret was insane. Ludicrous! Even to someone like himself, who would readily admit that he knew only the bare minimum of their current predicament, it was apparent that the human race, as a whole, was way out of its league.

Apart from all the nonsense (and audacity) that came with keeping such a pivotal component of the modern age a secret there was another issue that had the Secretary of Defense quite worried. While he could respect the organization for their aid in furthering the advancement of the human race he was doubtful if they had made any other, beneficial, use of their data. From what he'd seen it was as if they had made their discoveries and were now content to play scientist.

He had spent many years playing mind tricks with politicians, trying to coerce them out of stupid involvements, making quick decisions that could have gone horribly wrong; he had spent an age watching those in high power and he could see the telltale signs of backbreaking stress in all the agents around them. The grunts that wore a suit mostly for show and loomed in his peripheral vision were stiff and, ironically, robotic like their mysterious attackers in their movements and he knew that behind those tacky sunglasses there were pairs of nervous, panicking eyes darting about; afraid of their own shadow. They were hardly better than the secret service. Tom Banachek and the Agent who'd identified himself as Reginald Simmons, the Head Officer of Sector Seven's Field Agents were entirely different cases, but just as easy to dissect.

The loud, overly enthusiastic field agent was typical in his attempt to cover up his nervousness. Like a child he would raise his voice and project unneeded, false emotion but even with his frozen smiles he was still the perfect image of self confidence, if Keller was feeling particularly insulting he would compare Simmons to a High School jock. As good an actor as Simmons may have been, however, he was helpless to stop his bodily functions betraying him, the sweat running off his face as if it were a fountain and his eyes twitching about their surroundings; he was silently panicking, maybe even regretting his actions but still knowing that it was too late to try and change course. The man wasn't too far away from a breakdown.

Banachek was harder to read. The man was like a slab of rock with the way he kept his voice level and congenial and his face blank no matter what he was saying. It was as if he no longer used any other muscles on his face apart from his lips. Not even his eyes betrayed him; the man's blue irises resembling chips of ice more than soft tissue. But he had an almost imperceptible tick. At certain points in Agent Simmons' explanation Banachek would develop a singular tick in his neck as if something was pulling the flesh into his windpipe, as if he was stopping himself from commenting or even musing to himself. He was the picture of a man at war with his morals and his duties, that much was obvious.

The patterns seemed to repeat themselves no matter where they were in the dam. The entire base seemed wholly unprepared for even the possibility of an attack from this strange race that they were studying.

And yet they were still confident in themselves. They refused to humble themselves and admit that maybe their course of action throughout the years wasn't the best. They seemed too stuck in their ways to even consider that the way they had been going, throughout Sector Seven's history, was incredibly detrimental to themselves; in the modern world that they, themselves, had created they should have realized that they couldn't remain a secret. It was one of the most spectacular things that they had managed to stay a secret for as long as they had.

It wasn't a problem though.

John Keller was used to dissuading stubborn men from their ambitions. He knew how to devise plans of action, strategies and traps for unassuming, and frankly stupid, men to fall into. He knew how to do the best for his country and the people that he had a duty to protect and preserve.

It was time to take these people down a notch.

* * *

As they followed the two Sector Seven agents through a series of long tunnels Glen Whitmann couldn't stop the shivers that ran up and down his spine.

At first, when he had recovered from being arrested by the F. B. I., he hadn't wanted anything to do with 'Sector Seven' and whoever was hacking into the government's database but then the Secretary of Defense, of all people, had explained the situation a little and he was raring to go. It was a natural response, at least for him, to want to know as much as possible when the means were readily available (and legal), otherwise he'd end up with twitchy fingers and a desperate need to find a computer and that wasn't the safest habit in the world.

So he'd followed and listened and obeyed and found himself feeling a little disappointed and bitter about all the things he learned. He could understand the need for advancement in technology, he was a techno-geek and it would be pointless to deny it, but he'd always had a soft, pliable demeanor towards all things ethical- unlike Sector Seven.

He could respect Sam and he understood why she was being difficult, in all honesty he thought it amazing that she was still standing to give the Sector Seven agents hell. He thought it even more amazing that she'd been privy to as much information as she had been. As trying as her situation may have been, and he had little doubt about that, he knew that on some strange, obscure level it was exciting.

But he wouldn't want to switch places with her. He'd never be able to cope.

That didn't mean he couldn't enjoy as much excitement as he could get. Granted the situation had taken a slightly more sinister edge once they'd arrived at Hoover Dam but it was that rare mix of fear and anticipation that pumped raw, sense-heightening adrenaline through his veins, making him bounce slightly on the balls of his feet as they stopped outside a regular-sized door.

"You're about to see our crown jewel," Simmons announced as he opened the door, giving way to some sort of observatory.

Stepping into the room Glen's eyes went straight to the large window on the center left of the room, his mouth dropping as he did so. It was so much more than Sam had said it was.

"Carbon dating puts the cube here around 10,000 B.C.E. The first seven didn't find it until 1913," Banachek said quietly, allowing them to enjoy the view.

The All Spark was, indeed, a gigantic cube and very obviously made of metal but it was also very beautiful. Patterns were intricately carved on its surface, curving this way and that, geometric etches twisting over edges and corners, and it shone in several different hues as if it was made from a compound of precious metals.

"They knew it was alien because of the matching hieroglyphics on the Cube as well as NBE-1. President Hoover had the dam built around it. Four football fields thick of concrete; a perfect way of hiding its energy from being detected by anyone or any alien species on the outside."

"Wait," Maggie spoke up, an expression that Glen called her 'thinking face' gracing her features, "Back up. You said the dam hides the cube's energy. What kind exactly?"

"Good question."

And they were off again.

* * *

Sam had very nearly lost her patience; there was only so long she could tolerate being ignored. And so blatantly too.

From outside Megatron's hangar to the present minute she had been ignored by Banachek. She had hounded his heels, tapped on his shoulder and tugged at his sleeve so many times she'd lost count, each repeat slightly more aggressive than the last. She didn't bother with Simmons; God only knew what she would do to the man if she was forced to stand near him, but she felt that Banachek was personally responsible for getting Bumblebee back to her. He was the one that had promised, after all.

She'd listened raptly to all they'd said and provided what she knew as well and yet she wasn't getting what she wanted. She didn't like people who didn't keep their promises and Banachek was quickly approaching his colleague's position on Sam's Shit List.

She pouted sullenly, the wonder and awe she'd felt when she'd seen the All Spark dwindling away as she was ignored once again by Banachek. If this carried on she'd be forced to resort to violence- it seemed that that was the only thing that held their attention.

"Please step inside; they have to lock us in," Banachek instructed.

Sam pulled the black Sector Seven jacket tighter around herself and glared moodily at the lit box in front of her as the others made quiet conversation (she was sure she heard an exclamation of "That's Wolverine!").

"Anyone have any mechanical devices? Blackberry? Key alarm? Cell phone?" Simmons questioned.

Sam did have her cell phone (ruined as it was), she could feel the weight of it in one of her pockets, but she wasn't feeling very cooperative. Glen Whitmann offered his and Sam idly wondered if he would get it back.

"Ooh, Nokias are real nasty," Simmons commented as Banachek passed black goggles around the small group, making Sam wince when she saw the tight band, "You got to respect the Japanese. They know the way of the samurai."

Sam rolled her eyes and decided to stop listening to whatever Simmons said. Instead she stared intently at the phone in the glass box, as Banachek and Simmons flicked a range of switches around the room, she wondered if they were doing what she thought they were.

"We're able to take the cube radiation and funnel it into that box,"

Sam's brow twitched. Theoretically, they _were_ going to do what she thought they were and she couldn't help but feel that it was wrong. Optimus Prime had said that the All Spark gave them life, that it was sacred and Sam didn't feel that something like that should be abused like this.

She watched as a silver contraption lowered from the top of the glass box, hovering over the cell phone before it ejected a line of blue light, resembling lightning, before it folded back up and out of the way. She clenched her hands into fists apprehensively as the phone shook before it suddenly burst open and formed a miniature robot resembling a crab or a spider.

She spotted the two, small red lights it had for eyes and watched with dawning comprehension as it went about destroying its cage. Was Sector Seven making Decepticons on purpose? Or was it because the engineering in the cell phone originated from Megatron? Or was it something else entirely?

It was strange, how they were watching something be 'born' (at least that was what Sam would class it as) with such detachment. Again she felt an echo of wrongness within her as Simmons decided that the Nokia-bot had to be terminated. Slowly removing her goggles, her eyes still trained on the robot's smoking remains, she vowed to give the Sector Seven agents absolute hell if they had done anything remotely similar to Bumblebee.

'_Speaking of…'_ Narrowing her eyes as much as she could without hurting herself she quickly reached out towards Banachek who was, conveniently, standing beside her and resolved that if she didn't get what she wanted then she would have to try another, more effective, method of getting her point across.

"Look, I don't care whether you meant what-" Unfortunately, Sam's epic rant was halted by the sound of distant explosions and the bright lights of the room flickering dangerously.

"Gentlemen, they know the cube is here," Keller stated needlessly.

'_That is simply fantastic,' _Sam thought bitterly as Banachek wrenched away from her towards a communication device, slamming down on one of its two small buttons quite harshly for someone who, up to that very moment, was very calm.

"Banachek. What's going on?" A voice filled with alarm and static filtered through the small device's speaker.

"The NBE-1 hangar has lost power-"

"_What_?!" Surprisingly the exclamation came from Banachek.

"-And the back-up generator is just not going to cut it…"

'_Well, that doesn't sound good at all,' _Sam thought, not quite registering what was happening as the man that had been introduced as Captain Lennox approached Banachek.

"Do you have an arms room?"

* * *

**End of Chapter Eleven: Ice and Concrete**

* * *

**Next Chapter: Chapter Twelve: Marvel Girl**

**Author's Notes:**

Bumblebee will come next. I swear.

Bwuahaha! Marvel Girl. I feel smart (it's probably unfounded but I'll take what I can get).

The reason for why I had a lot of POVs in 10 is because I'm trying to speed things up; I can't do that if I stick to just 1 or 2 POVs.

Some people are also asking for the Autobots' POVs. You'll get them but not in this story. _**Just a Girl**_ is about the _**girl**_ and the _humans_ to give you background info on them and their personalities etc. This story is a set up for the next two. As a side note, you may have noticed that I miss out certain things from the original plotline...

But that doesn't mean you won't be seeing Autobot POVs before the sequel- that would take too long. If you go to my Profile you will get more info. The shorts won't be appearing until after I'm done with the Mission City arc/thing but you'll get them.

Now, let me just say: That was a fucking _**awesome**_ response. You people are bloody brilliant and I'm sorry that I'm making you wait so long for updates. Thank you so much reviewers:

Blue Viper, SomeReallyRandomPerson (Simmons will actually get punched in later chapters), flamingmarsh, Elita One (I love him too), blood shifter, PsychoWing, Niteskye, Flopsy95, KitsuneyJenfner, LoveHopes (**-whines-** But naming the P.O.V.s is so unprofessional...), jstreader, Dragon260, Pennie, EasternSky, The Red Eclipse, jazztransformsme, insanechildfanfic (The producers took the 'average joe' tune of the movie a little too far), ArmoredSoul (You are actually quite vicious), Kitty-Chan UchiNaru no Miko, The One Who Ate Your Socks (See A/N), freefall-gypsy, Fk306 animelover, Dragonflamecrystal, finley ann miles (You should see a doctor c:), Razorgaze, sugar-high pixie, Truth of Miracles-aka Allie,

-bot

P.S. John Keller FTW.

P.S.S. OMG Josh Duhamel! So I turned him into a generic 'young but able and shadowed soldier'… but who cares? He's man candy.


	12. 12 Marvel Girl

**Chapter:** Chapter Twelve: Marvel Girl  
**Chapter Summary:** Sometimes, you just have to take matters into your own hands, however small they may be…  
**Word Count:** 2, 433  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers: The Movie (Either of them) or Transformers: The Animated Series (Any of them). They belong to Hasbro and what have you. I also don't own any franchises or songs or movie references you may notice. I just own an over-active imagination.  
**Rating:** (T) - (PG-13)  
**Warnings:** Bad humor, gender-bending, SPOILERS!  
**Author's Note:** I TOTALLY OWNED THOSE EXAMS, PEEPS!

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Marvel Girl**

Sam hung back in the entrance of the armory. Everybody was rushing about, shouting, moving, and generally panicking. She stood in the back, away from the crowd of twittering, scared adults, glaring at everything in her line of vision. The stupid Sector Seven agent who'd told her she'd get her car back had lied; she'd been led on a merry little tour of the facility; seen the evil overlord of the universe, seen the deciding factor of a millions of years old war and seen a mini death machine rip into a glass box, but she still hadn't seen her car. She still hadn't seen Bumblebee like that Banachek guy had said she would. And it genuinely pissed her off.

Eyeing the entrance of the room, Sam wondered if she could get away with going after the yellow robot on her own. The idea was compelling, as flawed as her plan was, but she still wanted to try and get her guardian back. She knew she'd have to be very lucky to get anywhere with her half formed plan, if she wasn't careful she could very easily be caught and be accosted by those Sector Seven agents that were milling in and out of the tunnels like ants, and that was something she didn't want a repeat of.

Shoving her hands moodily into her pockets she jerked ever so slightly as they each collided with something. She'd forgotten she had anything in her pockets. With all the excitement (or pain, in her case) she'd only remembered having her cell phone- which, to her chagrin, had a nice crack in the middle of the screen - because she had attempted to use it outside the dam. Fingering the newly rediscovered objects she could practically feel the pieces of her ridiculous plan gluing themselves together.

Her car keys and Simmons' badge. Smiling ever so slightly she scanned the room one more time; everybody was in a panic; even Mikaela, who looked thoroughly lost. Sam doubted they could even see her. Gathering up all her courage she turned slightly and waited for the right moment to run as quietly as she could down the tunnel and away from the armory.

She didn't have to wait long as only a few seconds after she had made her decision the lights in the room flickered on and off in tandem; giving her the perfect cover to slip out of the room. Once out of the confined space and a respectable distance away she made sure that the Sector Seven logo on the black jacket the nameless agent had given her was clearly visible and then momentarily cheered at how one agent's pity would be the entire organization's downfall.

She would make sure of that.

Trying hard to picture the path they had taken, Sam took a left followed by another and found herself outside one of the entrances to Megatron's hangar; clearly labeled as the NBE-1 Hangar. She would have to guess at which way to go from this point on and before she entered the cold hangar she took note of the various plaques around her, just in case she lost her way.

Quickly sprinting into Megatron's hangar she followed the path they had taken to the All Spark observatory, barely glancing at the gigantic robot the Sector Seven agents were desperately trying to keep frozen. Exiting the cold hangar she found herself, very literally, at a crossroad. She remembered that they had gone to the right to the observatory and as the viewing window was slightly to the left of the room she figured her best bet to the Cube would be to go straight ahead.

Exiting that wormhole and mentally patting herself on the back for finding the All Spark so quickly, she stopped to admire the mammoth of a cube that rested benignly on a pedestal, quickly becoming enchanted by the way the blue energy seemed to sparkle about the hieroglyphs carved into it. This is what the Autobots had come after and she could see why it seemed so important; it simply exuded an aura of raw, unwavering power. Shaking herself out of her awe she looked around the chamber and seeing a dozen, maybe more, entrances to various tunnels she quickly came to the conclusion that this place was the most frustrating maze ever created.

Thinking quickly, and hoping to Heaven's above that her actions didn't blow up in her face, she grabbed hold one of the many agents (scientists?) rushing about her and shoved the badge she had taken from Simmons under his nose.

"NBE-2,_ where_ is it?" She demanded, mustering her most withering glare.

* * *

"We need to contact the Autobots!" Mikaela hissed, fluttering about the annoying Reginald Simmons, "We need Bumblebee to contact them and tell them where Megatron and the All Spark are, otherwise we're all_ dead_!"

"Look Banes, this is not your call. We will not be contacting those NBEs; it's a security risk, we have no idea what would happen and that Bumblebee you keep mentioning is not going anywhere," the man remained steadfast as he continued loading weapons.

"Those Autobots I keep mentioning are the ones who've come here to save us! And Bumblebee's the only one who'll know what to do! Do you honestly think that this-" she waved her hands around the arms room to emphasize her point, "-can do anything against Megatron?! Or are you just scared of what they might do to you because of what you did to one of their friends, one of their soldiers?"

"It's against protocol Banes, now go stand somewhere else, you're in the way."

She seethed as the man brushed her aside, making her bump into one of the soldiers from Qatar.

"Hey, girl, I can understand you're trying to help but right now we need to-" The soldier started, his tone giving no weight to his words, but she cut him off in a vicious tone.

"What we _need_ to do is to get Bumblebee away from these mad scientists so that he can help! He'll know what to do with the All Spark, I know it!" Sighing in aggravation she shouted: "Sam, why aren't you backing me up?!"

Silence fell across the room and she received no answer.

"Sam?"

* * *

'_This is too easy.'_ Sam thought as she watched Bumblebee tap the All Spark a few times before it seemed to collapse in onto itself; each section retreating into itself and curling inwards towards the cube's core in perfect synchronism.

The agent she'd grabbed had been very easy to manipulate, asking minimal questions after he'd seen her (stolen) badge, as he led her to the chamber they were keeping Bumblebee, or NBE-2 as Simmons had called him (she was glad she'd stored that little piece of information away). It had been really easy, a little too easy she would admit but she wasn't too keen on jinxing her luck.

Upon arriving in the chamber they were keeping Bumblebee Sam figured she had a little too much fun subduing the agents- or drones, as she had now nicknamed them- but she found that she didn't really care; she was angry. Her heart had chipped a little when she'd seen the cheerfully yellow robot struggling and emitting little electronic wails of pain, and that had sent her on a righteous power trip. Waving her stolen badge around madly she'd shouted at the agents at the top of her voice, giving them all her hard, and by now very battered and brutal looking, glare and even physically wrenching some away from their task before ordering them all out of the chamber.

It had taken a little while to calm her guardian down, he'd been quite distressed; an oddly shaped yellow mask lowered onto his face so that only his blue lighted eyes were visible and aiming his cannon, which had amazingly transformed out of his arm, at any of the stragglers that were hurrying out into the tunnels in fear, but she'd easily placated him, drawing his attention to herself. He spent a few seconds scanning her before lifting up one of his huge hands and brushing one of his large fingers against her disheveled face, she hadn't had that many bruises before they'd taken him away. She'd simply smiled and told him that it was nothing and that she'd be better in no time before latching onto one of his thick fingers and leading him back the way she'd come and into the All Spark chamber.

It hadn't seemed like a very good idea initially; both parties had panicked considerably; the humans gasping and shouting in a decidedly predictable manner and Bumblebee aiming his charged cannon at any of the 'drones' that got too close, but a tightened grip on the robot's finger and a thunderous roar of "We're evacuating!" had set everybody in motion. Apparently the words held more meaning to these workers than most.

Now, Bumblebee was holding the transformed All Spark, which was tiny in comparison to its previous size, and looking at her imploringly, his yellow mask no longer obscuring his features.

"Right, we'll need to go back to the arms' room; I don't know the way out of here but we can't, _can't_, go that way," She pointed behind her, towards Megatron's quickly heating hangar, "That's where they're keeping Megatron-" Bumblebee jerked at this, "-yeah, so we'll have to go back to Mikaela and the soldier guys; I have no idea how they're going to react."

At this point Sam gnawed worriedly at her thumb, her other hand plucking at the hem of the black jacket she wore. She hadn't given any thought to what she was going to do after she'd gotten to Bumblebee. She had no idea what the reaction to her going back to the armory with Bumblebee would be; as far as she knew there was only one person who would solidly support her and that was Mikaela, and as much as she valued the girl for sticking by her throughout the whole ordeal, two girls and one robot could hardly stand up against a whole organization's worth of agents and soldiers.

She looked toward the yellow robot in front of her and sent him an apologetic look as he looked at her confusedly.

"Yeah, I didn't exactly think this through," she admitted, smiling awkwardly.

_"-Bad boys, bad boys, what you gonna do? What you gonna do when they come for you? Bad boys, bad boys...-" _Sam stared blankly at Bumblebee as he smiled down at her, the metal plates that formed his face taking on a decidedly cheeky look.

"Oh, ha ha," she deadpanned, "But thanks anyway..."

The yellow robot nodded before he leaned down, holding the All Spark in front of her, twitching his hand in a way that made it seem like he wanted her to take the powerful artifact.

"You want me to- Are you sure? I mean…" She looked at her guardian skeptically, nervousness filled her chest and all thoughts of planning an escape were erased from her mind.

She couldn't possibly be trusted with such a thing. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she lost it or somehow damaged it. And then there was the underlying feeling of fear; that little Nokia was an excellent example of what the innocent looking cube could do. She wasn't the sort of person to be able hold that kind of responsibility objectively. She looked helplessly from the small cube to her guardian, her face contorted in a worried expression.

"Take it," Sam jumped back as she zeroed in on her guardian's face.

"Did you just-?" In response to her wide eyed goggling Bumblebee spoke again, his voice slightly strained, as if he was suffering from a sore throat, but still a strong, smooth tenor.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"But didn't the Nur- I mean, didn't Ratchet say that your… vocal processors were damaged?" Her guardian simply smiled delightfully and extended his hand further until the All Spark was only a foot away from her chest.

"But I thought…" She hated it when things contradicted themselves. Now she didn't know what to think.

Quickly deciding that Bumblebee wouldn't give her something that could be a danger to her she inhaled deeply, shutting her eyes and quickly grabbing the All Spark. She instantly regretted.

The aura of energy around it was palpable. She could feel the power of it pushing at the palms of her hands; she could feel the tendrils of energy tingle up her arms, like phantom hands prodding at her flesh. It was like a head rush; the light behind her eyes darkening slightly before clearing again and she could feel the blood flowing in her ears, the rhythm of her heart speeding up and beating senselessly in her chest. It felt humid, oppressive, as if it didn't belong as it was.

And then, suddenly, it was gone and she could breathe again. Inhaling sharply several times Sam realized that, quite bizarrely, it was as if her heart had never sped up and as if she had never felt her blood pumping past her ears, as if the phantom limbs had never existed. But the pressure was still there; she could still feel it both pushing and pulling at her palms as if the All Spark was breathing.

"Sam?" Her eyes snapped open and she found herself dangerously close to a metallic face.

"Whoa…"

"Are you alright?" Bumblebee's brows were knitted slightly and the blue lights he had for eyes kept flicking up and down between her face and the All Spark from behind their protective glass shells.

"Yeah," she suddenly yawned very rudely, a rogue tremble shaking her body, "Yeah, sorry… M'fine. Should we go?"

Chirping in a way that made Sam think he was laughing at her, Bumblebee swooped down completely and held out an open hand, nodding to her reassuringly as she pulled herself up onto the metallic appendage. Once she'd settled down properly he gently raised her up and set her on his shoulder while playing a song clip:

"_-I'm counting on you, lead the way. You lead the way,-"_

Smiling softly at his still reliable means of communication, she watched as his mask snapped down once again; each gear that was visible to her eyes shifting and adjusting to their new position in a perfected sequence. Then, she easily guided him through the labyrinth that was Sector Seven, all the while keeping a firm grip on the pulsing cube as her feet anchored her to her guardian.

* * *

**End of Chapter: Chapter Twelve: Marvel Girl**

* * *

**Next Chapter: Chapter Thirteen: Pandemonium Prerequisite**

**Author's Notes:**

Freeing Bumblebee, getting the All Spark, giving BBB his voice back and belittling S7 in the same chapter? Man, I am being entirely too nice.

But wasn't that an absolutely brilliant execution? In 11 you guys ask about pairings just in time for the first big hint! That was an awesome coincidence.

And no, that is not the beginnings of a BeexSam Theme tune you see there. (Or is it?!)

Everlife – Lead the Way. Listen to it and speculate.

Things to come: Karma slowly but surely catching up with both Simmons and Banachek (yes, I know, it's what you've been wanting for, like, ever), Bumblebee being badass, Jazz making you go "Ooh!" and me making you go "You can't leave it at that, you bitch!", Ironhide and Ratchet kicking ass _as they should have _in the movie, more Sam torture and Optimus being a sap. Again. And then we'll be moving on from the movie events to my actual story! Yaaaay.

Thank you to:

blood shifter, an, KitsuneyJenfner, Elita One, flamingmarsh, LoveHopes (You're supposed to say 'Ok, who's this?', it'll be easier to tell later because then you'll know who's who by the way I write their POVs :D), AnsemMesna (You mean MOAR. lololol), Flopsy95, serenity8118, PsychoWing (OMFG HOW DID YOU KNOW?!), ArmoredSoul, sugar-high pixie (Well, sometimes it is...), CheshireMax (I like the switches too! Gives me variety and motivation because I'm like 'ZOMG I have to write so-and-so' and they come out awesome because of it), thechickenlittle, Fk306 animelover, jazztransformsme, QueensKin.

-bot

P.S. And yes, Sam does have a thing for nicknaming people. Though she's not very good at it. I thought I'd carry on with the 80s cheese (God only knows how many bad nicknames Ironhide made for the Decepticons).


	13. 13 Pandemonium Prerequisite

**Chapter: **Chapter Thirteen: Pandemonium Prerequisite  
**Chapter Summary: **Things don't always have to make sense.  
**Word Count: **3, 954  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers: The Movie (Either of them) or Transformers: The Animated Series (Any of them). They belong to Hasbro and what have you. I also don't own any franchises or songs or movie references you may notice. I just own an over-active imagination.  
**Rating:** (T) - (PG-13)  
**Warnings:** Bad humor, gender-bending, SPOILERS!  
**Author's Note:**** Pandemonium**: Complete and utter chaos or _Hell_, the place for all demons. **Prerequisite**: a condition you need to achieve something or get somewhere.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Pandemonium Prerequisite**

The armory was deathly still. John Keller, Maggie Madsen and Glen Whitmann had ducked down, taking cover beneath various pieces of furniture, and Tom Banachek was backed against a wall; his hands raised high in the air in surrender. In the center of the room there was a stand off between the Sector Seven agents and the soldiers from Qatar; some disarmed and lying still and wary on the floor while others held their ground, their guns poised and ready. Agent Simmons was pushed back against a black buggy, an ugly bruise forming on his left cheekbone, with a gun held to his head courtesy of an enraged looking Captain Lennox. A little ways away from them Mikaela Banes stood with a large gun hefted above one shoulder like a baseball bat whilst she glared heatedly at the Sector Seven agent nearest to her.

Sam was confused.

From her vantage point on Bumblebee's shoulder she could see the entirety of the room and, no matter how much she attempted to rationalize the scene playing out in front of her, Sam still couldn't understand what was going on. It was as if she had entered a completely different room to the one she had left; nothing her eyes met matched up with her logic. Of course, it could have been because she was starting to feel slightly lightheaded; her vision occasionally playing tricks on her with doubles and triples and her sense of balance taking a walk down a very winding road but Sam knew that it was because of something else. It had to be, she couldn't be hallucinating, after all!

"Did I miss something?" She tried her best to flush the humor from her voice, and to suppress the twitch in her lips that threatened to break into an all out grin.

Regardless of their position, all eyes snapped towards her and then, as one, the occupants of the room took a quick, guarded step back; their eyes as wide as saucers as they stared in disbelief. Sam was helpless to stop the smirk that stretched her lips as her eyes sought out Banachek, who was now, comically, slumped against the wall he had been backed up against.

However, it only took one agent to shake themselves out of their stupor for Sam's scowl to reappear. Rigidly, from his position on the floor, a Sector Seven agent lifted his gun and pointed it at the robot Sam was perched atop, a resounding _click_ indicating that it was time to get back to business. Unerringly, the rest of the black garbed agents mimicked the man's actions like a strange set of dominos and before she could blink Bumblebee's free hand was acting as her pseudo shield, his shining mechanical eyes burning behind the mask that blocked his face from view.

Silence engulfed the room once again, the air becoming thick and heavy; the muffled sounds of scurrying agents out in the tunnels seeming miles away as the occupants of the armory waited for the smallest hint of movement so that they could act and rid themselves of the source of their troubles. Sam was, quite forgivably, terrified.

She had never had any sort of firearm pointed in her general direction and, apart from freezing in place, the only thing she could think to do was stare with wide eyes. She vaguely felt a stream of power flow beneath her feet and towards the arm Bumblebee had transformed into a cannon, a pressure akin to the one she had felt when she had first touched the All Spark rising towards her chest and it was all she could do to keep breathing and avert her eyes from the charging weapon only a few feet to the right of her. Sam hoped that Bumblebee wouldn't have to fire first.

"Hold your fire!" Everyone gave an involuntary twitch as the Secretary of Defense jumped out from behind the table he had taken refuge, his arms spread out in front of him in a placating gesture as he walked slowly but assuredly to the centre of the room, the agents and soldiers lowering their weapons and parting like the Red Sea as he walked by them.

"Put it back," Sam gasped out, almost inaudibly towards where Bumblebee's ears would have been had he been a human. Her yellow guardian lowered both his arms by a small fraction and she felt the flow of energy beneath her feet ebb until she could no longer feel it, but Bumblebee's arm stayed a cannon; quiet whirring noises still emanating from the mechanics.

"Miss Witwicky, are you alright?" John Keller questioned, breaking her fear induced daze.

"Yeah, never better…" Her answer was absentminded, breathless, and she couldn't quite make sense of all the shuffling the room's occupants were doing.

"Positive?"

"Yes."

'_No,'_ her answer didn't matter, either way.

"Good, would you mind explaining?" The old man waved a hand up and down, indicating Bumblebee's height.

"Oh," How could she explain everything? He wouldn't understand, "You were all being stupid. I decided to put things right."

"Really? Does putting things right include-"

"Shut up!" Simmons' undoubtedly long speech was cut off sharply by Lennox. Sam resisted the urge to giggle but her mind quickly sobered as she noticed that the old man was still looking at her inquiringly.

"Well, I left," she started matter-of-factly, "And I found the All Spark hangar… Then I went looking for Bumblebee, then we went to get the All Spark and now we're here."

She smiled brightly, quite sure that she had made very little sense, judging by Simmons' flabbergasted face.

"You retrieved your uh… Bumblebee, was it…? How did you manage that?" Banachek looked faint as he looked upon her guardian and Sam couldn't help but chuckle as a metaphor for karma sprang to her mind.

"Firstly, Bumblebee's not a thing (so stop talking like that) and he's not mine, secondly," smiling again she raised her right hand, which had previously been pressed against the All Spark, showing off the gleaming badge she had claimed from Simmons the night before, "You would not believe how well this thing works!"

"You little, thieving-"

"Shut _up_!" Simmons' tirade was, once again, cut off sternly by Captain Lennox.

"Hold on! All Spark, you have the All Spark?" Keller questioned again and at this point Sam spotted Mikaela's head poke up above the rest of the crowd as she looked curiously at Sam and Bumblebee.

Not trusting herself to hold the metal cube securely she gripped the small artifact's sides firmly before she lifted it a few centimeters off her lap, not wanting to risk giving her precious cargo added height. Surprisingly, the first question to this action was not 'How' but rather 'What'.

"What were you thinking?" Keller whispered, staring at the cube she had hastily repositioned on her lap.

If she were to answer that question honestly she would have to admit that she hadn't been thinking at all; which she was sure would disappoint and anger more than a few people, herself included, and so she decided to use her awesome powers of improvisation.

"That we could get it away from here, no use playing sitting ducks now," she said simply.

"She's right," Lennox nodded his agreement, "There's no use in us waiting for Megatronic- ("_Megatron_!" Sam corrected, all too sure she'd heard Bumblebee snort in amusement at the man's mistake) – _Megatron_, to defrost in the other hangar," to his credit the military Captain recovered from his faux pas without missing a beat, "Mission City is twenty two miles from here. We can sneak the All Spark out and hide it in the city."

"A city?" Bumblebee piped up suddenly, causing more than a few of the room's occupants to holler and scramble away from the robot as the mask obscuring his face lifted and moved to mesh with the back of his head.

Unmindful of the reactions, he weaved between the humans (not that he had to try very hard as they were all too willing to scamper out of his way) and came to a stop beside Lennox and Simmons, his transformed arm hovering dangerously close to the annoying man's head. Sam wondered if he'd done that intentionally.

"Is it a military city? Or are there civilians there?" Sam answered for the young Captain after seeing his slightly frozen, dumbfounded face.

"We don't have military cities," she added as an afterthought; "Whatever they are."

"Then we can't take the All Spark to this 'Mission City', the Decepticons will destroy the place," her guardian's face was carefully pinched into a concerned frown as he stared down at Lennox, "Isn't there any other way?"

The man looked thoughtful before he shook his head.

"No, no matter what we decide to do we'd still need to find a way to contact the Air Force. Our best bet is the city."

* * *

It was a relief to see Sam again. Safe and whole and sitting on Bumblebee's shoulder. That had been strange but Mikaela had given up on questioning Sam's… normalcy. The girl was plain weird, but she was smart and caring too; you had to be a combination of the three if you even wanted to think about rescuing a giant alien robot from the clutches of a particularly meddlesome secret government organization on your own.

Her actions were definitely admirable but worry still gnawed at Mikaela. She could see that the short girl wasn't in the right state to do half the things she was doing. She must have been absolutely exhausted and yet she carried on surprising everyone, over and over again. She wished she could do something to help but the only option they had, that seemed at all plausible, was to finish their impromptu mission and get to safety as quickly as possible.

That seemed unlikely, somehow, but Mikaela didn't want to linger on that thought.

Mikaela glanced out of the passenger window of the bright yellow Camaro (which now sported more than a few dings and scratches, much to Sam's dismay), spotting a familiar set of shiny automobiles rolling after them like bejeweled sentries in the rear view mirror. They had reunited with Optimus Prime and his soldiers shortly after leaving Hoover Dam; it seemed that the robots had known where they were going to be as they had crossed paths on the freeway before the aliens had demonstrated some very neat u-turns and then proceeded to trail after them. It was reassuring to know that in the seemingly normal assembly of flashy cars there were four soldiers with more experience and power than the rest of their human guards combined.

Mikaela sighed for the millionth time that day as they joined the busy highway, Bumblebee winding between the cars expertly and putting quite a lot of distance between them and the rest of their group.

"What's with you?" Sam questioned quietly.

Mikaela studied the feeble looking girl sitting in the driver's seat, the All Spark held tightly in both hands on her lap. She understood Sam's question but didn't think there was any tactful way to answer; there were so many ways the girl could misinterpret her words that Mikaela felt it would be best if they simply didn't waste their energy with speech.

"Nothing," she answered listlessly.

It was silent in the car's cabin except for the sound of the wind whistling past them outside and the growls of the numerous engines surrounding them. Several expressions swam upon Sam's face as the girl opened and closed her mouth, never quite forming any words, as a look of contemplation settled over her features.

"Don't worry about it," she said finally with soft conviction.

"Huh?" Mikaela's brows rose, the words weren't the response she was expecting.

"Don't worry about what's going to happen. If something doesn't go our way, then it won't, if it does, then it will. There's no point in worrying about things we can't control," the smaller girl turned her head towards Mikaela, her gaze tired and penetrating, "This whole thing's beyond you and me; the best we can do is just let it take us where it will and hope we'll be okay."

She hummed in agreement, turning to stare into the rear view mirror again, the girl's dead tone unnerving her. Sam's words were optimistic at best while her voice was dull; as if she already knew what was going to happen. Frowning, she sighed again; the way Sam spoke, it told countless things that should have remained a secret.

"Guess it's time to- Whoa!" Mikaela's appropriately wistful statement was cut off when Bumblebee lurched forward with a burst of speed, "Bumblebee? What's going on?"

"What's a tank doing on the highway?" Sam interjected incredulously, twisting slowly in her seat to look out of the back window.

Blinking with surprise Mikaela squinted into the rear view mirror just in time to see a beige colored vehicle transform, tear through a bus and slam straight into Optimus Prime.

"Decepticons," there was no need for the robot to clarify anymore; both the girls understood that any robot that attacked Optimus Prime could only be a Decepticon.

"Already?" she breathed nervously, watching the two robots grapple in the middle of the busy highway; she had been under the impression that, with the speed they had left the dam, they would, at least, be in the city and in the midst of getting the All Spark to safety before they encountered any Decepticons.

"We'll just have to hurry up," Bumblebee's calm voice was slightly reassuring as Mikaela tore her eyes away from the rear view mirror only to mimic Sam's action and twist around in her seat upon hearing the small girl give a startled yelp.

"What hap-" she frowned confusedly, "-pened?"

'_Where did the robots go?'_ she wondered.

"They fell! Went right over the edge!" Sam all but screeched, pointing at a damaged ledge a couple hundred meters behind them.

"Optimus will be fine, don't worry about him," Bumblebee stated, drawing the girls away from the foreboding scene behind them, "He's won over worse opponents than Bonecrusher."

Bumblebee was much too calm for her to comprehend but in the end she guessed it was because the robot had probably seen worse situations. Mikaela couldn't help but wonder how strong Optimus Prime was and just how much faith his soldiers had in him; from the momentary glance she had gotten of the beige colored robot she had wasted no time in concluding that the alien had to be vicious, unlike the Autobots it hardly resembled a human in its features and that observation had only served to reinforce the fact that both the Decepticons and the Autobots were, indeed, a completely different race to the humans.

"Are you sure?" Sam's voice was skeptical as Bumblebee chuckled easily.

"Yes, Optimus will catch up in no time."

* * *

The small troop of army buggies and slightly dusty but still sparkling cars, minus one large semi, stopped in the middle of the street, halting curious civilians with their odd appearance. For a second everything was oddly peaceful until the army officers jumped out of the buggies and began ushering the nosy civilians away, giving short answers and being slightly pushy with the most stubborn of their unwanted audience. Sam sunk back into her seat, barely moving as she stared at the various officers take control of the situation with ease; clearing the street in a matter of minutes, instructing the civilians to get away from the city and to the suburbs, most likely.

"Sam, are you alright?" Bumblebee's voice crackled through the radio, surrounding the two girls due to the multitude of speakers dotted about the interior of the robot's vehicle mode.

"Yeah, just a little tired," she answered weakly.

She knew that she wasn't fooling any of her companions; she would have been more successful if she didn't wince noticeably at every twinge of pain that lanced through her body.

Even the smallest movement of her extremities caused pain which she had no doubt was the effect of an excess of lactic acid in her muscle tissue. She had slowly become accustomed to the feeling during the short trip, mostly due to the fact that she hadn't needed to move at all while she sat in the driver's seat of her Camaro, content in the knowledge that Bumblebee would be able to avoid any conflict they may encounter. She had focused all her attention on simply breathing; her sides ached fiercely, her ribs feeling swollen under her skin, and the scratchy discomfort that accompanied every breath was more than indicative that _something_ had happened to her rib cage. As limited as her medical knowledge was, however, she was glad that she could at least ascertain that she had yet to break anything.

The cracking sound of jet thrusters jogged her from her thoughts as she leaned forward slightly to stare at the plane that had flown over them.

"Is the Air Force here already?" Her answer was provided by Ironhide who had transformed at the sight of the supposed military jet.

"It's Starscream!"

"Not a friend then," Mikaela muttered, sinking back into her seat.

"Sam, Mikaela, please retreat to a safer location. I have to help Ironhide," for once Bumblebee's voice seemed to have lost its cheer, making Sam wonder if their opponent was as bad as his name sounded.

Numbly, not quite believing that they had to part with their guardian so soon after being reunited, the two girls exited the car quietly, pausing momentarily to watch Bumblebee transform, before they rushed to the back of the tightly knit group of buggies.

"Come on," Mikaela said softly, gripping Sam's arm and pulling her towards the small silver Pontiac that was innocently reversing behind the buggies.

Sam recognized the car as Jazz, Optimus Prime's first lieutenant.

"Mind if we borrow your interior?" Mikaela asked as she pushed Sam into the driver's seat, slamming the car's small door shut before she all but jumped over the hood and dived into the passenger seat.

"You girls doin' alright?" The robot's inhumanly smooth voice filtered through the radio as the car reversed with much more speed than previously, "Sam, you got the All Spark, right?"

"Yeah, can't you feel it?" Sam questioned, resting the cube atop the Autobot insignia on the steering wheel, jerking back slightly as the cube issued a small pulse of power, small sparks of blue lightning flickered over the hieroglyphs on the cube before they died back down.

The radio crackled, signifying the beginning of speech but whatever Jazz was going to say was cut off by a large explosion at the head of the street, spreading debris all over the Pontiac's windshield. Sam leaned forward in alarm, eyes searching frantically in the settling dust for a flash of yellow paint. Panic rose within her throat when she didn't immediately spot her guardian.

"Mikaela, do you see him?" she rasped, pushing herself further onto the steering wheel to peer at the scrambling soldiers.

"I see Ironhide," Mikaela answered.

"And I see Bumblebee," Jazz remarked, a hint of teasing in his voice.

"Where?" the hopeful question came from both girls.

"He's gettin' up now, look," Sam didn't question how the robot could tell while he was in car mode and turned back to the wreckage just in time to see said robot stand.

"What happened?" She whispered, examining the damage now that she knew her guardian was alright.

"Missiles, it was a distraction," the robot's voice had turned cold and Sam glanced worriedly at the dash, "Go back to Bumblebee, quick!"

Once both girls had exited the car, Jazz made a tight k-turn, one which Sam knew no human driver could ever achieve, and sped down the street towards a large green tank.

"Oh, shit," was Mikaela's only eloquent exclamation.

"Let's go," this time it was Sam that led Mikaela back towards Bumblebee.

* * *

The shrieks of numerous car alarms were drowned in the deafening shockwaves of missiles and guns firing only a couple of blocks away. Broken glass from shop windows littered the street and distressed debris tore chunks out of solid brick walls. The tarmac of the street shook and rumbled on occasion, the result of a heavy impact, and Sam wondered if the ground would split open anytime soon. It didn't seem at all impossible; Sam had no doubt that Armageddon was just a ways away from her.

Even if she couldn't see it, it certainly sounded like Armageddon.

Sam and Mikaela were safely out of blast range, having been carried away from the soon to be trenches by a harried looking Bumblebee. Her guardian had wanted to take them out of the city completely but both girls had refused, stating that whatever was happening needed to be finished and that they would be there to see it. So the yellow robot had settled for keeping the girls away from the fight, stubbornly dismissing any invitation for him to go and help his comrades and ordering them to make themselves as comfortable as they could as he marched back and forth in front of them, his cannon glowing brightly. Sam's conscience ate away at her as she sat on the sidewalk, clutching the All Spark to herself, a snide little voice throwing jibes of her weakness at her, constantly reiterating that, if she had been in better condition, Bumblebee would have easily been able to go and back up his fellow soldiers.

Sam's shoulders tensed doubly and she wished she could simply sink into the sidewalk as the sounds of battle intensified behind them, somehow, she knew that things had just gotten worse. Staring fiercely at the ground in front of her she almost jumped out of her skin when a pair of boot clad feet ran past her. She watched, a dark feeling settling in her stomach, as the dirty figure of Captain Lennox ran to the end of the street, looking to the heavens before he turned back and ran towards the group of three.

"Sam! You alright? Where's the cube?" Sam blinked at the question, standing alongside Mikaela, and extended the metallic artifact a few inches from her body, "Look, I can't leave my guys back there so I want you to do something for me."

Sam only nodded.

"I want you to take the All Spark and get it to that white building there," the young Captain pointed to a large building with nun-like statues on the roof with a dark colored stick, "Get it to the roof, set the flare and then the army will do the rest. Can you do that?"

Sam gave the man a helpless look but she knew that she wouldn't refuse.

"Sam, we'll come with you," Mikaela was instantly at her side, her face set determinedly as Bumblebee nodded at them, a reassuring smile on his face.

"No," all three of her companions drew back slightly, shocked at her response, as she addressed her guardian and her classmate, "No, you guys stay here, help the others. I'll go on my own, it's not a problem."

"But, Sam-" Bumblebee leaned forward a fraction, frowning lightly as she cut him off.

"No, I told you, its fine. You need to stay here, the army can't hold off those big guys on their own," Sam smiled as best she could and raised the small cube in her hands to her chest, "Don't worry, I won't let them catch me."

Bumblebee didn't look convinced but before he could utter another word Sam had snatched the flare from Lennox's hands and took off, running towards the white building.

* * *

**End of Chapter Thirteen: Pandemonium Prerequisite**

* * *

**Next Chapter: Chapter Fourteen: Run, Rabbit, Run**

**Author's Note:**

I AM SO SORRY! I really have no reason other than that I am chronically lazy. I give you permission to throw any manner of sharp objects at me.

Okay… since I've taken so long… I'll give in to word vomit _just this once_…

In the first scene- Simmons probably said something rude and Lennox_probably_ pistol whipped him. The pairing will be Sam/BBB but it will happen much later and it will happen in a different way than you might think. I have plans for Jazz, big ones- you saw the beginnings of them in this chapter. If you didn't figure it out; Sam was about to call Ratchet 'Nurse-bot' in 12. The military guys will be reoccurring characters; they'll play a particularly big role in one chapter in the second story (one of my personal favorites). Chip, Carly and Raoul will appear eventually- they'll be given makeovers for the 21st Century and they'll be interacting with Sam in different ways. You guys will hate me for what I plan to do with Raoul.

A question before I go: **What is your favorite chapter so far?** Mine's 8: Black Out.

Thank you to: Flopsy95, Dragon260, blood shifter, ArmoredSoul, Truth of Miracles-aka Allie, flamingmarsh, Eastern Sky, Anon, red, PsychoWing, Blue Viper, Dragonflamecrystal, AnsemMesna, LoveHopes, KitsuneyJenfner, Narnian Sprite, CheshireMax, Fk306 animelover, Ladyofthebookworms, jazztransformsme, Linariel, sugar-high pixie, MistFairie93, Niteskye, chigirigi.

- bot

**P.S.** In 14 Bumblebee will pwn Starscream, Ironhide will show some amazing football skills, Ratchet almost neuters Starscream and Mikaela will prove that she does _actually_ listen in her Chemistry classes. It will be awesome.


	14. 14 Run, Rabbit, Run

**Chapter:**Chapter Fourteen: Run, Rabbit, Run  
** Chapter Summary: **If you can't walk then catch a cab.  
** Word Count: **2, 928  
** Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers: The Movie (Either of them) or Transformers: The Animated Series (Any of them). They belong to Hasbro and what have you. I also don't own any franchises or songs or movie references you may notice. I just own an over-active imagination.  
** Rating:**(T) - (PG-13)  
** Warnings:**Bad humor, gender-bending, SPOILERS!  
** Author's Note:** Sam Torture FTW.

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Run, Rabbit, Run**

Sam had run until she was sure she was out of sight. Then, she'd staggered towards the nearest wall; collapsing against it in a fit of heavy breathes and trembling limbs, trying her damnedest to stay upright. It had taken an embarrassingly long time to recover from just one block of running, but she was beyond embarrassment when she'd stumbled into a nearby café and shamelessly looted the first drink her hands had landed on. One drink hadn't been nearly enough to quench her thirst but she'd pushed herself on, continuing at a speed which was hardly worthy of being called a light jog.

Choosing to deliver the All Spark to the military by herself hadn't been a particularly hard decision; she knew that something needed to be done and if she had to be the one to do it, then so be it. However, the moral duties tacked onto the decision still didn't make it the best choice. If she was slightly more humble it may have worked out better but, of course, at this point in time she was probably delusional and so would be the last to give up her pride before succumbing to things such as comfort or efficiency.

Sometimes, Sam hated being herself.

Unfortunately, she had no time to engage in a long, internal rant about why she seemed to have no luck, or common sense, at all (something she would have dismissed as teenage angst on any regular day) as she was almost blown off her feet by the force of an explosion at the center of the boulevard she had almost finished crossing.

Apparently, she had underestimated the intensity of the miniature war going on in the city, though it was quite ironic that the one time she decided to run from the fight, the fight would find her. Cursing her luck anew, Sam regained her footing and turned to the source of the explosion, freezing in place and gaping at the large robot that stood in the middle of the previously smooth road.

It seemed to be the same jet that had fired missiles on them earlier, though she couldn't be sure as she had no clue as to whether any other jets had joined the fight, and it also seemed that there hadn't been an explosion at all but, rather, a very rough landing. Studying the torn road (and various destroyed cars) Sam couldn't help but grimace and be glad that the city was void of civilians.

Shaking off her shock Sam suddenly realized that the robot, which was currently blissfully unaware of her, was a Decepticon. Belatedly remembering that the Decepticons were after the All Spark, she cast a quick, downwards glance at the cube in her arms before doing the first thing that came to her mind.

In one, swift movement she had the All Spark behind her back; the loose, black Sector Seven jacket that was still wrapped around her figure providing more than adequate coverage for the artifact. Taking a deep breath, Sam slowly started edging backwards towards the side street she had originally planned to travel by. This wasn't the wisest course of action as the route she had chosen was glaringly noisy; her feet colliding with all the stray trash that was dotted about the street thanks to the obliteration of the litter bins. This, invariably, drew the Decepticon's attentions to her.

The robot turned its head in a smooth, languid motion, just like all the other robots she had seen; the minute actions wasting no energy or time, in other words, moving mechanically. Sam froze momentarily, as she found she did whenever one of the robots looked at her, and tightened her grip on the All Spark as she stared at the red lights that resembled the eyes of a wolf more than a human's. The image wouldn't have been as frightening as it was if the face the eyes were set in didn't look so _alien_. Undoubtedly, the Decepticon had the face of a human and just like all the other robots she had seen, the face was handsome, however, while the metal that made up the Autobots' faces was a smooth, uniform monotone; imitating a human's perfectly, this Decepticon's was set in a jagged tribal pattern; the epitome of deadly rebellion.

The robot blinked and Sam held her breath as it looked down at her critically, not daring to avert her eyes on the off chance that the alien decided it wanted to squash her, or something equally insidious. To her great surprise it simply blinked again and turned away, looking back in the direction it had come.

Only to be caught in the face by a bolt of blue energy.

The robot took the hit silently, stumbling back in great, earth shattering steps, but Sam screamed in alarm, jumping back with such might that she found herself no longer on the road, but on the sidewalk. Eyes rounding in disbelief, Sam turned to look in the direction of the shot, her brows rising of their own accord as she looked upon one of the most strangely reassuring sights she would ever see.

The first thing she noticed was the lumbering, and quite rapidly approaching, figure of Ironhide. The second thing she noticed was Ratchet, advancing a little ways behind his comrade at a much more sedate pace, fiddling with something on his right arm. And thirdly, her eyes landed upon the welcome sight of Bumblebee standing at the end of the boulevard, his transformed arm still smoking from firing a shot and waving cheerily at her with his free hand. She would have waved back but keeping the All Spark free of dents (caused by her carelessness) was a top priority.

Turning back to the Decepticon only a few meters away from her, Sam immediately leapt back again. The robot had turned away from her completely, its clawed hands covering its face, and from her vantage point she could clearly see the air dancing like a mirage around the twin engines mounted on the robot's back. She winced at the high-pitched whine of turbines starting up and, in her need to avoid being burned to a crisp in addition to all her other injuries, she brought a hand up to shield her face from the growing heat, pulling the All Spark in front of her in order to cover her abdomen. From behind her fingers she witnessed the most disturbing thing she had seen since the beginning of her adventure.

"Where'd ya think yer goin', Decepticon punk?!" The roguish baritone of a voice was the only warning Sam and the Decepticon received before Ironhide slammed into the jet's middle, throwing both robots to the ground.

Sam watched with morbid fascination as the two alien beings skidded across the ruined tarmac, sparks flying from where the metal of their respective armored limbs ground against one another. Rooted to the ground, Sam felt her jaw drop and her arms slacken slightly, as Ironhide unreservedly threw a punch at the jet's face, a move which the Decepticon dodged, sending chips of _road_ flying in all directions.

Retreating even further, Sam allowed herself to lean against a tarnished wall as Ratchet joined the fight, the two Autobots working in tandem so that one of them had a hold on the jet at all times. Enthralled by the flexibility of the robots' metal bodies, she almost missed Ratchet swiping at the jet's wings with a large buzz saw mounted on his arm. The sharp metal scraped across the wing, sending a shower of sparks into the air like a firework, as the jet wrentched himself free of Ironhide's hold at the last second, faltering once in his step, before he executed the fasted transformation Sam had seen yet, as he took to the skies; disappearing from her sight in mere seconds.

"Are you alright, Sam?" Turning away from the blue sky, Sam simply smiled at Rachet, who looked strangely upset as he stared at his arm, and Ironhide, who simply looked downright annoyed. Nodding, satisfied that they weren't in any obvious danger, she looked towards Bumblebee, who had finally made it to their end of the boulevard.

"Where's Mikaela?" He seemed confused for a moment, his lips slightly parted and his brow furrowing a fraction, and when he answered he seemed unsure of himself.

"She's helping the Army Captain and his troops... something about aerosol bombs?"

"Oh," Sam giggled at the strange image that suddenly materialized within her mind, "What about Jazz? And Optimus Prime?"

The robots looked strangely somber after her question and Sam wondered if she'd upset them somehow.

"Optimus arrived a little while ago," Bumblebee said, his tone light yet strangely halfhearted.

"Bumblebee, take the femme. Ratchet, with me," Sam blinked at the short orders Ironhide barked out as he turned away, walking, almost stiffly, back in the direction he had come, Ratchet following after him silently. As she stared after the two large robots, Sam couldn't help but think that she _had _said something to upset them as she wondered what a 'femme' was.

"Come on, the roads to the left of us are clear."

* * *

Clear, Sam thought, as she clung to the steering wheel of her Camaro, was the last word she would use to describe the 'detour' Bumblebee had chosen. While the roads they attempted to speed through were free of fighting, they were not free of things such as cars that had been abandoned in the middle of the road. Unable to turn around or even take a different route, Bumblebee had been forced through the most terrifying stunts Sam had yet to witness, not because they were dangerous, but because with every abandoned car they swerved past, a long disfigurement appeared on Bumblebee's paintjob. Sam had voiced her discontent very loudly but her guardian had silenced her by using words and phrases she didn't understand.

She wasn't sure if he just wanted an easy way to make her shut up.

"Bumblebee, can I ask you a question...? Why didn't that Decepticon try to take the All Spark?" It had been bothering her ever since they had left Ratchet and Ironhide and in her worry she had kept her eyes to the skies, fearing that the jet would come back now that they were alone.

Bumblebee withheld his answer until they were halfway across a narrow side street.

"Lots of reasons," he said, his hesitant tone made it obvious that he was choosing his words carefully, "Only Transformers who have been created by the All Spark can feel its presence at all times; whether it's by knowing its exact location or simply the fact that it's somewhere in the universe. Those with Creators have to actively search for its Resonance. It is possible that Starscream is one of these, and so did not think to search for it on a human," he paused, as if contemplating something, before he said amusedly:

"Starscream was created by the All Spark- so there is no reason why he shouldn't have attempted to take it from you… but he's known for having his own agenda so…"

Sam started, dismissing the unknown words in favor of expressing her incredulity, "Are you saying that he… he would-"

"That he wants Megatron's title and power enough to let the one thing Megatron desires the most to simply walk away? Yes."

"I don't understand, why would he do that?" She couldn't quite wrap her head around the concept of betraying someone just for the sake of it, "Isn't he a Decepticon? Doesn't he follow Megatron?"

The sound of Bumblebee's chuckles echoed through the cabin of the Camaro.

"Just because they share the same faction, doesn't mean that they're necessarily loyal to each other."

Sam blinked, feeling stupid. Her guardian's explanation made sense; sounding very much like American politics- why had she thought such things would be any different for aliens?

"Hey, how did you know the jet- Starscream- was created by the All Spark?" It seemed irrelevant to ask such a question when they were driving through an abandoned city, which was, consequently, being ripped apart by aliens, but her curiosity won over her sense of conservation.

"It is through our bond with the All Spark- all those created by it can differentiate between their brethren and those with Creators," he said this as he opened the driver's door, "I think we should finish our mission now, don't you?"

Looking out of the open door she realized that they were parked outside the large white building Lennox had indicated. She blinked confusedly before turning to the steering wheel.

"How long have we been here?"

"Approximately 123 nano-kliks," Sam rolled her eyes as she stepped, painstakingly slowly, out into the eerily silent street.

"I don't even want to know," she did, however, want to know why it was so creepily quiet, "Are we that far away from everyone else?"

As if in answer to her words a large crash sounded out distantly.

"I will hold off anyone who approaches," Bumblebee's voice gave away his nervousness as he transformed fluidly. Once he was stood upright in his bipedal mode, Bumblebee wasted no time in ushering her towards the chain link fence that surrounded the building, pushing its gates open with ease and nudging her in.

"Please hurry Sam," Bumblebee implored as he scrutinized the building, the metal components behind the protective, glass covering of his eyes twisting and narrowing as the two flat, antennae-like structures atop his head lifted, flickering up and down in unison before he turned back to her and said reassuringly, "There is nobody else inside, you will be fine."

"Right, gotcha, going," Sam found herself disturbed by the level of anxiety portrayed on her guardian's face and steadfastly avoided his eyes as she nodded and turned away, jogging into the building.

* * *

She was on the third flight of stairs, dragging her feet with every step that she took, when the entire building started shaking violently, as if it had been hit by a battering ram. The tremors, miraculously, halted after a few seconds and were promptly replaced by the sounds of gunfire, which started and stopped just as abruptly as the tremors, before the building shook with renewed vigor. The force of whatever it was that kept impacting the building was so great that Sam found herself falling forward onto her knees, the only thing that stopped her hitting the wrought iron steps being the All Spark.

She didn't move for quite a while after the last of the unsettling tremors stopped, her breathing deep and gasping as she lay on the steps. Unheeding of the discomfort the position caused, she studied the structure of the building quietly, trying to determine whether it was safe to move and dreading having to face whatever had caused the pseudo-earthquake.

Gulping away her fear, she pulled herself up with the help of the handrail and resumed her upward trek. Clutching the All Spark to her chest with one arm, using the other to keep her balance on the stairs, Sam looked out of every window she passed, frantically searching for any clue as to why the building had almost come down around her ears. Her sense of dread increasing steadily the higher she climbed, the sudden peace that seemed to engulf the surrounding area unnerving her to the point where she couldn't resist looking over her shoulder after each flight of stairs she cleared; as if waiting for an invisible assailant to jump out at her.

After what seemed like an age of climbing, Sam finally emerged on the roof. Pushing open the door that barred her entrance before she collapsed onto her knees in the sun; hot rivulets of sweat dripping from her face, her eyes screwed shut as she dry heaved, her parched throat feeling raw. She would have thought that the achievement would be satisfying, however, as she kneeled, panting on the roof, the only thing she felt was an overwhelming sense of wrongness.

Steadying herself on shaking arms, Sam knew that something was not right. She should have been able to here the sound of fighting; gunfire and explosions and, most of all, she should have been able to here the repetitive rhythm of helicopter rotors. But there was only silence above the wind that whistled about the rooftop.

Gritting her teeth, and loathing her next action, Sam pushed herself up; her eyes still sealed shut and her fingers digging into the hieroglyphs on the All Spark as she spun around, opening her eyes at the last second.

Sam's breath caught violently in her throat. It was close, almost leaning over her with its gigantic mass, and it was staring straight at her and she would rather have been blind than to see the creature's face with such frightening clarity. Two round, red lights flashed blindingly into her eyes, and its face, if it could be called that, was an organized mess of knifelike spikes, glinting darkly in the light of the sun, and its mouth was armed with an array of long, jagged teeth; all of which were sneering at her.

And then, there was a voice, one which would not have been out of place in all of her nightmares. Deep and whispery smooth, its tone so mocking and smug that Sam received the distinct impression that, to this disgusting looking creature, the entire war was simply one, elaborate game of cat and mouse.

"I found you, fleshling."

* * *

**End of Chapter Fourteen: Run, Rabbit, Run**

* * *

**Next Chapter: Chapter Fifteen: We All Fall Down**

**Author's Notes:**

1 Nano-klik 1 second

By the way, I should mention that Sam's description of Starscream may be misleading.

Another movie plot hole: when Sam was running, he cowered about ten feet away from both Blackout and Starscream. Tell me, why didn't they feel the need to squash the fleshy and take off into the air where the Autobutts couldn't follow them? Bad Michael Bay, bad! Read the script and try to figure out if it makes sense before you start with the explosions of awesome (That's, like, a double pun).

Fun little note: It_ is_ possible to make a bomb out of a full aerosol can (given the right ingredients) though I've forgotten how exactly (I haven't had a chemistry lesson in a year and a few months)… On a completely unrelated note: you can also make certain types of liquid fertilizer explode by throwing sugar (or was it salt?) into them.

I feel like I'm channeling Wheeljack. c: ... Oh, and don't try that at home.

Thank you to: Kirii, Elita One, blood shifter, Blue Viper, flamingmarsh, jazztransformsme, Eastern Sky, Ladyofthebookworms, chigrigi, Dragon260, Flopsy95, AnsemMesna, ArmoredSoul, hermonine, Fk306 animelover, PsychoWing (INORITE? She'd make an awesome military chick), TheSongOfNature, sugar-high pixie (Why did you feel the ending was rushed?), MoonRose91, LoveHopes (**-catches marshmallows in mouth-** Bwuahahaha, you should have seen that one coming), SomeReallyRandomPerson (Bonecrusher was some sort of mine layer/sweeper but I don't think the girls would know that), Bathories Slake Kuri (Don't get excited now, you'll probably be disappointed c:), M (You hit the nail right on the head! Sort of…), morning sun (Happy Reading!), S. Phantom, CasoraTigerKin.

-bot

P.S. What… I'm not going to explain the ending? No. No, I am not. Oh, but yes, Jazz is dead now. D:


	15. 15 We All Fall Down

**Chapter: **Chapter Fifteen: We All Fall Down**  
Word Count:** 3, 417**  
Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers: The Movie (Either of them) or Transformers: The Animated Series (Any of them). They belong to Hasbro and what have you. I also don't own any franchises or songs or movie references you may notice. I just own an over-active imagination.**  
Rating:** (T) - (PG-13)**  
Warnings: ** Bad humor, gender-bending, SPOILERS!**  
Author's Note:** I think a lot of you are expecting too much from the pairing and also the clichés in this fic. STOP IT. Stop it now. Just take the fic as it is now and see how I develop it. And, just to warn canon worshipers: this is where we start to deviate from the movie.

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: We All Fall Down**

She had thought that before you died your life flashed before your eyes; your best and worst memories revisiting you one last time to remind you that your life hadn't been so bad after all. She had thought that the world would slow down; as if all creation wanted to witness the end of one more life. She had thought that maybe, if she was lucky, she wouldn't have to experience death until she was very old.

It seemed that she had been wrong on all counts.

Her mind was a blank slate with no room for memories, bitter or sweet. And it seemed that someone had put time on fast forward- with no sign of stopping soon. And it also looked like she would be dying very, very soon if she didn't find a way to get off the roof and away from the giant evil robot that was intent on taking the ancient artifact she had sworn to keep out of harm's way.

Her feet moved of their own accord, her ears deaf to the Decepticon ruler's words, edging backwards as he moved forward. It seemed like it really was the end of the line for her as her foot bumped into the ledge of the building; she could see no way out of the mess she had gotten herself into and her only two options spelt doom for her continued existence. Give up the cube, and die by sharp metal claws, or, jump off the roof and become a splatter on the kurb. Suddenly, the evil robot in front of her wasn't very important; nothing seemed important at all and Sam suspected that the blows she had suffered to the head had finally taken their toll.

It wasn't the best time to go crazy, she knew, but there wasn't much left that she could do.

"Sam!" Optimus Prime's voice was immediately recognizable and her dark train of thought was temporarily stopped as she was caught somewhere between being relieved and asking what had kept him so long. But pleasantly surprised or not, it only took a few seconds for her to discard both feelings and resign herself to her fate. Even if Optimus Prime had arrived, how was he going to make it to the top of the building before Megatron decided that he would simply forgo the formalities of asking her to surrender and just squash her?

Optimus Prime's words were distorted by the wind carrying them and a heavy stillness fell upon the rooftop. Sam couldn't discern it clearly, but it felt like the wind was whispering a million different things into her ears. Millions of voices, all of them unfamiliar, all of them commanding and all of them speaking in a distinctly foreign tongue she vaguely remembered hearing before. It didn't fit in with the pattern of events she'd experienced- she strongly felt that something _bad_ should be happening in that moment, not the alien stillness that covered everything about her.

Her eyes fell downward to settle upon the All Spark, still gripped securely in her hands. It was warm. Much warmer than she could ever remember it being, regardless of how short a time it had been in her possession, and the pulse she'd always felt beneath her fingers was stronger and faster than ever; as if the All Spark had been running with her all this time. It was strangely comforting, lulling her into feeling strangely secure with the words that were floating about in the wind. She felt at ease for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, knowing, for some reason she couldn't quite understand, that she could trust the voices... do as they say...

Sam blinked. Her vision was blurred; colors melding together and creating unidentifiable blots against a dreary, grey background, and her eyes struggled to clear away the fuzziness. A shiver shot down her spine as her eyes finally focused upon the All Spark, again becoming smothered by that unnatural stillness. She felt like she was going to be sick again, swaying on her feet- and realizing, with some shock, that she hadn't collapsed, yet- she stared in horror at the object in her hands, struggling against the animal instincts that told her to drop it- _drop it now_.

She didn't want to think about the strange, trance-like sensation she had felt, but she finally realized what power this... _living object _held. It became clear why Megatron would want it, why the Autobots wouldn't want it in the wrong hands. If she could succumb to it so easily... Who knew what it could really do?

_'Who knows what else it could do,'_ she corrected herself, gulping down the burning at the back of her throat.

She looked away from the cube, not wanting to know what would happen if she became fixated again, and instead turned her attentions to the grey robot in front of her. In her dangerously tilting world, the behemoth was still, unmoved. Sam stamped down the urge to look at the cube again. Why hadn't the robot moved? Where was Optimus Prime?

Everything became animated before she could fully process it. The Decepticon leader advanced even further and she could hear the faint voice of the Autobot Leader, telling her to hold on, to wait just a little while longer.

"Give me the All Spark, fleshling," Each word was enunciated clearly, fiercely, as Megatron drew ever closer, "It calls to me."

It was the whisper of madman, a lover, something unnatural that she couldn't understand- a telling whisper of power and domination, the precursor of horror and destruction. It was an unspoken promise. The fright that had disappeared with her realization of finality, of futility, returned full force; terrifying her more than anything else she'd ever experienced. She may have no more options, but that obviously didn't mean that she could no longer be frightened, that she couldn't fear for her life, even if she knew there wasn't anything she could do to save herself.

Her eyes trailed down towards the All Spark again, glaringly aware of everything around her- the cold wind, the hot sun, the shuddering roof beneath her, the groaning struts of a building near collapse, the sounds of struggle from her friends and allies... Soon they were all blocked out again; replaced by that stillness that brought with it louder voices upon the wind and the compulsion to move forward. She raised her eyes again, without intending to, and studied the robot in front of her, without wanting to, moving her eyes this way and that, searching for something she didn't know. Her eyes finally settled upon the center of the robot's chest, staring at the odd glow she couldn't put a name to.

_There_. There, the voices said even as her instincts told her to _run_, to run far, to run _away_.

"Give me what is rightfully mine, human, and maybe you will not suffer a painful death," As if obeying his words, she moved forward, not quite sure if it was her legs that were moving her or something else, raising the All Spark as she gathered speed.

Then there was a moment of white light and she found herself stumbling back, her vision blurred once again and more disoriented than ever. A dull pulse echoed about her head and she continued stumbling back; having completely lost control of her momentum. Before she could adequately wonder what had happened, she found the edges of her useless vision becoming dark, a direct contrast to the whiteness she had seen not seconds before. Groaning unintelligibly, the pulse in her head turned into a hard throb and she finally fell to the floor as her knees buckled beneath her.

* * *

Mikaela slumped against the wall of a ruined building, breathing deeply and freely, happy that the oppressive atmosphere of an active battlefield had been lifted from the boulevard the small group of soldiers had stationed themselves on. Their status as the possible victors of the battle had been very touch-and-go when Bumblebee, Ironhide and Ratchet had left to help Sam, the military having to rely only on their limited supplies against the green tank that refused to die. But, once the two bulkier- and obviously older- Autobots had returned, the battle had very quickly taken a turn for the better, regardless of the fact that the tank was being backed by a giant, black helicopter. It had been so hectic that there had been no time for thinking, the tides of battle turning every which way until, finally, they had emerged as the victors.

She sank to the ground, smiling as she watched Ironhide help the soldiers clear debris off of the main road and rescue any of the soldiers that had become stuck under particularly large pieces of rubble as Ratchet wandered off, undoubtedly scanning the streets for anymore injured parties.

"Hey," She looked up at the soldier that had taken it upon himself to make sure she didn't get herself killed; she only knew his name to be 'Epps', "Are you okay? You're not injured, are you?"

"Oh, no, I'm alright. Do you need help with the, uh-" She made a vague, pointing motion in the direction of the soldiers that were clearing up the road, "- cleaning and stuff?"

Just like any disapproving adult, Epps frowned and smiled kindly at the same time, "No, you just rest for a bit until we can get some more support- you've had it rough, nobody expects you to do anything else. If you need anything, just come find me, okay?"

She was about to agree and dismiss him so that he could go back to helping his friends when something occurred to her, something that they had all seemed to have forgotten. Panicked, she stood quickly, clutching at the wall as a wave of nausea assaulted her.

"Hey, hey, where are the helicopters? Did they get Sam out? Does she still have the All Spark?" Without waiting for an answer, Mikaela left Epps reaching for his outdated walkie-talkie as she ran to Ironhide. As if sensing her approach, or her fear, or _something_, Ironhide turned to her as soon as she started towards him, his metallic face scrunched up in a serious expression as he looked down at her.

"Are you alright- Mikaela?" Her name sounded odd coming from him but she didn't care as she started questioning him furiously. She had become so engrossed in her own fight that she had all but forgotten about all the others.

"Where's Bumblebee? Is he with Sam? What about Optimus Prime?" Throwing a hurried glance around, she added, "What about Jazz? Are they alright? Did Optimus Prime beat Megatron?"

The robot's answer almost sent her to her knees, dread flooding through her as she realized that their fight wasn't over, yet.

"Jazz has been deactivated. Bumblebee sent out a distress signal 198 nano-kliks ago; Optimus Prime has already answered his request. Sam Witwicky's status is unknown to me."

Mouth gaping open, Mikaela breathed heavily for a few chilling seconds, looking from Ironhide to the soldiers that had paused in their work to listen to the two converse. In the background she could hear Epps and Captain Lennox speaking heatedly on their walkie-talkies, trying to contact the military and the precious air support they'd requested.

"Why-why aren't you going to help them?" The answer was so blunt and the tone so forceful that she flinched back at the words.

"My assistance is not needed- Optimus Prime can control the situation- these humans..." he paused, as if unwilling to admit something very unpleasant, "... require my assistance more drastically than Optimus Prime. Do not concern yourself."

Stumbling back, openmouthed again, Mikaela shook her head before turning away from the robot and taking off towards the building Sam had been heading for. She ignored the shouts for her to return, from both the humans and alien, and carried on towards the white building. She was probably overreacting; Sam had shown that she could work her way out of a tight situation... but she hadn't been so injured back when she had made that conclusion, she hadn't been exhausted, like Mikaela, herself, was. And, at the time when Sam had been miraculously quick on her feet, she hadn't had a gigantic, evil robot after her. If Bumblebee had sent out a distress signal, then she didn't know what to expect- the yellow robot had proved himself to be more than capable of protecting both Sam and Mikaela... but against something as big as Megatron?

She repressed a groan, refusing to think of the worst, as she looked about her surroundings. The white nun-like statues standing atop the building Sam had headed for peeked out from above the shorter buildings. From her vantage point, she couldn't see anything that could give her some sort of clue as to what was happening- she guessed she was on the wrong side of the large building to see anything- but even without any sight of her companions, the silence that had engulfed the entire block burned her ears, causing goose bumps to rise on her bare arms. The absence of sound was unnatural and frightening; something bad was undoubtedly happening.

She started running again; she had to find Sam and the footfalls from a few of the soldiers that had run after her were becoming louder. She couldn't let them catch her, she knew they meant well but she had to see for herself- she had to find them. She needed to know that they were alright. Running beside the length of the building, she hoped that the silence didn't mean that they had moved away to another location; she had caught a glimpse of Megatron flying overhead early on in the battle and hoped that he hadn't been able to carry her companions away.

Turning the corner, Mikaela came to an abrupt stop, stumbling as her feet refused to move properly. Rubble littered the road, pieces of a chain link fence strewn about, the largest remaining piece covering the crumpled form of Bumblebee. Her breath caught in her throat and she rushed forward again, casting nervous glances to the skies as she called out to the guardian, not paying much attention to the soft thumps and faint crashes coming from a short distance away.

"Bumblebee!" The shout seemed to awaken the robot because the transformed Camaro started shifting immediately after her call.

Drawing closer, Mikaela saw the full extent of the damage Bumblebee had taken. His armor was scorched a horrid, burned black in some places, other parts torn and warped, but mostly dented- it looked as if he had been knocked into the wall behind him. She could only imagine the fight that had taken place between him and Megatron. She stopped a little ways away from him, allowing him to shove away the debris that covered him, watching and listening to the odd mechanical noises that issued from beneath his armor.

"Bumblebee? Are you alright?" Her voice seemed to have shrunk, becoming quiet and hopeless.

"Yes, Mikaela, are you-?" The softly voiced question was cut off by a loud cracking sound. Mikaela instinctively stepped back as the sound rose in volume, watching in horror as the building Sam had headed for seemed to sway for a second. "Mikaela, get in!"

Turning back to the yellow robot, she winced at the pitiful state of the Camaro's bodywork as he transformed into a car again, holding the driver's door open for her. Glancing back at the building one last time, she hurried into the driver's seat, slamming the door shut with much more force than was necessary as a deafening rumble erupted from the building; it's large stain glass windows blowing out in an explosion of sharp, sparkling glass and clouds of thick dust. She watched as the building shook, but did not fall, as a shudder ran through the ground beneath Bumblebee's tires- as if something very big and very heavy had fallen through the building. The last thing she saw was a flash of shining red and blue before the clouds of dust surged forward and covered Bumblebee's windscreen.

"Was that Optimus Prime?" She looked to the dash, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, sitting on the very edge of her seat as she tried to peer through the plumes of creamy colored dust.

"Yes, he has Sam," Mikaela sighed in relief and leaned back into the driver's seat as the Camaro's engine rumbled to life, steering them out of the dust and back towards the soldiers.

"What's going to happen?"

"Sam is injured, Optimus Prime will follow us back to where the human soldiers are stationed; from there, they will take Sam to a medical centre via helicopter," Bumblebee answered through the radio after a short pause, "It seems Megatron and Starscream destroyed the helicopters that were due to retrieve the All Spark- the United States Air Force is sending heavier support in order to aid the injured and clean up the city."

"Oh, my God... How- how injured is Sam?" She leaned forward again, resting her forehead against Bumblebee's steering wheel, not quite believing something so bad could happen after they had suceeded in fighting off the Decepticons.

"She has... lost consciousness... We will be escorting them to a hospital in Las Vegas- it is the nearest, with the necessary facilities- Ironhide will be joining us while Ratchet and Optimus Prime stay in the city."

Dejectedly, Mikaela stared through the dirty windscreen at the helicopter landing gingerly in the middle of the boulevard, guided by the soldiers surrounding them. The immense form of Optimus Prime watched over the proceedings, speaking with Ironhide- who stood at the ready by his elbow- and carefully shielding something with his large hands. She squeezed her eyes shut, and turned away, when she spotted Sam being held carefully between his fingers as he lowered her onto a stretcher.

She drew a shaky breath, willing away her tears. It didn't seem fair for this to happen now, when everything seemed to be over and done with. It was a late, low blow- it wouldn't have had half as much impact if one of them had to be taken to hospital earlier on in their journey. The timing was more devastating than anything the Decepticons had managed to do, striking away at what little happiness they had gained from winning against the evil robots. Looking back to the street, she watched the helicopter take off, Bumblebee rolling after it and Ironhide moving in behind them.

"Are you feeling alright, Mikaela? You're not injured too, are you?" She felt like crying, her breaths short and hiccupping, filling the Camaro's cabin with a depressive aura.

Ignoring the question, she asked, "Will she be okay?"

"I'm sorry... I'm not very familiar with this sort of human ailment- I do not know," The yellow guardian sounded tired, his voice heavy.

"How long until we get there?" She kept on questioning, unwilling to be left to her own, painful silence.

"We will arrive at University Medical Centre in approximately 2.3 breems- under 20 earth minutes. The medics will already be treating Sam when we arrive," The Autobot seemed to have regained some of his warmth, his voice no longer so sad as quiet, the soft sound of classical music rising from the radio, "Please try to rest, Mikaela. Neither I, nor Ironhide, can reveal ourselves once we arrive at the hospital- you will need to make sure that nothing happens to Sam after she has been treated. Sector Seven may have helped here, but we still do not know their status and whether they can be trusted."

Pushing her weight against the backrest, Mikaela sighed and let her hands lie lightly on the steering wheel as she watched the scenery outside her window change from a dead looking city to the highway. She'd felt quite useless up to this point, she still did, but if she could do the smallest thing, something that her new companions could not, would that mean that she was just as useful as they were? She hated feeling as she did, being unable to help; it wasn't in her nature to sit around and let other people, people she cared about, on some level, get hurt. It made her feel horrible... but if she could help here, then maybe she could make a difference.

"I can do that."

* * *

**End of Chapter Fifteen: We All Fall Down**

* * *

**Next Chapter: Chapter Sixteen: Back to Earth**

**Author's Notes:**

198 nano-kliks: 3.3 seconds or Approx. two-fifths of a Breem (8.3 mins)

Okay. Okay, I know, yes, I should be stoned to death. I will accept, without complaint, any harsh words you may have for me. I am actually gob-smacked. After being gone for so long, I go to the stats so I can get the names of the reviewers and HOLY HELL. THOSE NUMBERS. Thank you so much.

On the subject of Girl!Sam being awesome- I think it's just a staple of the Transformers verse- all the human males are losers while the human females kick ass. Has anyone else noticed this? I mean, Spike (G1) worked on an oil rig and wore a yellow hardhat- comethefuckonplease- while Carly was an MIT student, Astoria was a rich girl with the balls to demand a burger from the Decepticons and I also remember a female scientist, who had the plans for this satellite thing, that ran away from the Decepticons and didn't get caught (she jumped out of a freaking window)- unlike the male scientists who always get caught and have to find a way to call for help. It's like a law of the universe with the Transformers- Male: Fail, Female: Win. As far as humans are concerned, anyway- the fembots all seem to suck (except Blackarachnia and Girl!Scream from TF:A... they're quite cool).

**Thank you SO MUCH to the reviewers:**

blood shifter, Bathories Slave Kuri, Flopsy95, Elita One, jazztransformsme, darthwessel666, MoonKaiser, flaminmarsh, PychoWing, LoveHopes, Fk306 animelover, Ladyofthebookworms, EasterOfFlesh, CamaroGirl16, morning sun, Dragon260, Shadow of Existence, MoonRose91, ArmoredSoul, hermonine, AnsemMesna, Niteskye, Figs, sugar-high pixie, Sinead Rivka, Silver Fox 22000, WhiteHeartBlackSoul, Mikazuki Hime, MissMom, Sadari Jenova, Jo Milina, KooriKitsune, Moonlight Eagle, Adrianna Jayne Black, My name?.

**I AM SO SORRY FOR MAKING YOU LOVELY PEOPLE WAIT SO LONG.**

- bot


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